


Side Effects

by elimymoons



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Ultimate Universe, Marvel Ultimates, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bottom Tony Stark, Canon-Typical Violence, Creampie, Dubious Consent, Dubious Consent Due To Sex Pollen Shit, Enemas, Explicit Conversations About Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Getting Together, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Light BDSM, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Mutual Pining, Rough Sex, Semi-Graphic Description of Tony Vomiting Due to Chemo, Sex Pollen, Subspace, Top Steve Rogers, Top Tony Stark, Unsafe Sex, discussions of mortality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 08:01:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16572722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elimymoons/pseuds/elimymoons
Summary: "So what I'd like to propose," Tony continued on, "is for you to let me help you out a little, yeah? We'll work off some of this energy, some of this adrenaline, and you don't have to worry about hurting yourself anymore, okay?"Steve's in a bit of trouble. Tony wants to help him out. Sexily.





	Side Effects

**Author's Note:**

> AHHH I AM SO. EXCITED TO FINALLY BE POSTING THIS!!! I have been working on it for so long and I have such a wonderful AMAZING ARTIST I'VE BEEN WORKING WITH and I am so excited to finally be sharing it with everyone!!! I cannot wait to see what you all think :')))) I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!
> 
> ALSO: PLEASE GO GIVE [JAYJAY SOME LOVE](https://jayjayverse.tumblr.com/post/179943921309/team-whiskey-in-the-cap-ironman-big-bang-2018) FOR MAKING THE MOST AMAZING ART FOR MY FIC AHH

It should've been a simple mission.

"We're clearing out the labs now," Tony said into the comms, ducking low as Cap's shield went wide. Three men dropped, but the fourth one's body armor miraculously held, and he swung his rifle towards Tony with a shout. Bullets dinged his chest plate and shoulders, a few ricocheting off the jaw of his helmet and into the wall behind him. "Ugh, that's going to be a bitch of a dent to bang out," he grumbled, more to himself than Cap or Wasp, then mimed cracking his knuckles at the hired gun in front of him.

On the other side of the lab, a woman in a blue and yellow jumpsuit swung a rifle up at Cap, shouting something angry in Russian and firing a series of rapid-fire darts into the front of Cap's kevlar. Steve grunted and looked down at his chest, unimpressed, before plucking the darts out of his uniform. _A for effort_ , Tony thought with a giggle as Steve slammed her head into the wall. She dropped like a sack of potatoes, hitting the floor with a heavy _thud_.

" _We've got the upper levels clear_ ," Wasp said next. Hawkeye was, predictably as ever, silent. " _Moving to the next set of floors down. Thor's still doing crowd control outside. You guys find what you need yet?_ "

"Not yet, darling," Tony grunted, gauntlet curling and slamming into the goon's helmet. It crunched under his fist, but must not have been enough to take him out because another spray of bullets dented his armor. "It's cute that you think that's going to work," he laughed, punching at him twice more. Then, to Wasp: "The first few computers we scanned had already been wiped, but this lab looks promising. With any luck we should be able to find out what they've been working on and put an end to their nefarious plans, with the added benefit of crushing this lovely base to dust."

"Iron Man," Cap piped up, off comm. Tony whirled around, silencing his own comm, and stomped over, boots crunching glass and debris under foot. "These still look intact," Cap said once we was closer and—lo and behold—the screen was still glowing and what looked to be in the middle of a massive data download.

"Lucky us," Tony said with a grin, crouching down to take a peek at the screen. "You think we'll get even luckier and the hard drive they're downloading to will be unencrypted? Or oooh, maybe it'll be _badly_ encrypted and I can spend a fun five minutes ripping the code apart."

Steve hummed, but it sounded almost amused, and he didn't chastise Tony for his chatter, so he couldn't be too terribly upset with him. Steve loosened the buckle at his jaw, tugging off his helmet so he could yank a dart out of his skin. "You'd think they wouldn't have left in the middle of this—" he started to say, but then his jaw tightened and he whirled around, fist swinging, just in time to get an Erlenmeyer flask to the face. There was glass in skin and blood pouring down his face, but Steve just bared his teeth at the spitting Russian, slamming his fist straight into the guy's plastic safety glasses.

The scientist went flying, crashing into a wall of shelves. Cap pulled a particularly nasty-looking shard of glass out of his jaw, spitting blood onto the floor, and stalked over to where he was stumbling up amidst the broken beakers. There was another string of Russian, something Tony didn't quite catch, and then the scientist grabbed an Erlenmeyer from the shelves behind them and smashed it on the floor. Bright sticky powder, some hideous fluorescent orange, splattered across the three of them, painting them with the force of it as it billowed all around them.

"веселиться в аду," he spit at them, right before he started seizing and his eyeballs exploded in his skull.

"Shit," Tony hissed, flipping back into the comms. "Hey Wasp? We've got an intact hard drive from one of the computers here, but we're going to need a decontamination unit as well." It was hard to tell under all the orange, but it looked like there was a flush rising in Cap's cheeks. "Sooner rather than later would be appreciated."

"I'm fine," Steve grunted, wiping at his face with a relatively clean part of his forearm. His skin was still stained the color of a pumpkin, and he was breathing a little heavy, but he didn't seem to be in danger of his eyes bursting. "Not much that can take me out," he said, jaw flexing before he spit on the ground. He made a small face, sticking out his tongue, and Tony almost laughed at the absurdity of it. If Steve was another man, Tony might have called it _adorable_.

"Bad taste in your mouth, darling?" Tony teased, keeping the more salacious remarks to himself. An alert popped up in his HUD. "Your heart rate is spiking." 

"Awful," he agreed, spitting another mouthful of yellow-orange saliva on the cement. "'S just the adrenaline. 'Happens after a fight." And well, Tony supposed that made sense in a fight-or-flight type of way - just because the fight was over before it even started didn't mean that rush of adrenaline would magically disappear right along with it.

"Yes, well, I'll still be more comfortable once we wash this stuff off us," Tony said, inspecting one gauntlet surreptitiously. There wasn't a way he could really wipe any of it off, not before they got into decon and hosed down, but it didn't mean he was happy to be running around in the stuff.

" _Iron Man_ ," Wasp piped up then. " _We've got the tent popped up outside the lab door. Are you able to pass us the hard drive safely before you wash up?_ "

"That'd be a negative, Wasp," Tony sighed. "It didn't get sprayed during the fight, but we're both covered in the stuff, and the substance was airborne beforehand. It's going to need to be handled with hazmat suits until one of my techs can disinfect it." Tony didn't know if it was still in the air with them (since his suit had its own air filtration system and Steve seemed to be immune to it for the time being), but he'd rather go through decon than accidentally have all Jan's internal organs implode. 

" _Damn_ ," Jan muttered. " _Alright, we'll set up a box for you to pass it into. Is Cap doing okay?_ "

Hmm. She wasn't on group comms anymore, Tony noted. "We both seem to be fine," he started slowly. "I've got my suit and it doesn't look like it's affecting Cap. I think we got lucky on this one."

There was a sigh of heavy relief on the comm, and Jan switched them back to global. " _That's good to hear_ ," Jan said. " _Okay, we're sealing the decon tent to the wall now - you guys are good to get sudsed up._ "

"Darling, just admit you wanted to see my nubile naked body, and-" Steve shot him a dirty look and Tony coughed delicately, gauntlet clinking against his helmet at the gesture. "It's all on the outside of the armor anyway - I don't need to-"

" _Rules are rules, Stark,_ " Clint suddenly said over the line. " _We put the tent up, you gotta scrub down. What if some of that crap is stuck in the armor seams and you infect everyone from here to Manhattan? 'Might as well take the chance to wipe all that goo off you._ "

Tony and Steve shared a look. It wasn't often they could both be genuinely surprised on a mission these days, but trust Clint Barton to be the one to do it. "I daresay my dear Hawkeye, I think that's the most I've heard you say in a month," Tony teased, albeit gently. 

" _Just scrub down, Stark,_ " Hawkeye grunted and shut off his comm.

Steve rolled his eyes and started across the room. "You heard the man," he said, opening the door and ripping at the zipper to the decon tent. Tony sighed and stomped over. Once they'd sealed themselves in, samples of the compound were taken and Cap and the armor got a preliminary spray.

"Ugh," Steve grunted, trying to struggle his way out of the wet kevlar-chainmail combination. Wetted down like that, it probably weighed a ton, and Tony grimaced. No way that was going to be an easy strip.

"Yeah, I didn't quite take this into account when I made your uniform," Tony sighed. He reached out and tugged up on the panels, finally shimmying the uniform top over Steve's goddamn linebacker shoulders, throwing it to the floor with a wet _slap_. "Sorry about that - I'll make you a better one next go-around," Tony promised, politely turning to the side when Steve started on the soaked, clinging-to-the-skin leather pants.

"You don't have to do that," Steve said, shaking droplet-covered bangs out of his eyes with a wry, quirking grin. "My uniform works just fine as it is, Stark."

"Nonsense, dear," Tony simpered, folding and unfolding his fingers one-by-one, watching the way the joints interconnected, how the servos whirred and vibrated under his skin. Steve's cup and undershirt hit the cement floor, then he moved on to yanking off the boots. "What's the point of having a billionaire fund you if you don't take advantage of the perks?"

"Takin' down the bad guys is the only perk I need, Stark," Steve replied, and he sounded almost fond as he finally peeled off his pants and briefs and kicked them in the corner with the rest of his clothes. "Now let's get that armor off'a you."

Tony shivered, glad for once of the suit's ability to mask some of his more… involuntary motions, and nodded, turning towards Steve and lifting up his arms obligingly. The gauntlets came off easy enough, but the rerebraces and shoulders had discreet catches that needed to be manipulated a certain way (usually it was machine or tech-aided, but well, emergencies were emergencies) to come off. It was the same with the legs and the center chest piece, but once all those large sections were off, the rest of the armor fell off without much work. "Guess it's time for shower number two," Tony said lightly, his eyes firmly on the armor pieces on the floor as he toed out of his own panties, flinging them off and into the pile.

Part of it was he didn't want to stare, to make Steve uncomfortable or anything of the sort (Maybe - _maybe_ he'd snuck a glance or two in the showers before, just to… see, what the living legend was about, something for the spank bank even, but he hadn't- hadn't been _rude_ about it, hadn't salivated after the man or come onto him or made Steve feel like he wasn't _safe_ around Tony). And- well, alright, it was silly, to feel embarrassed of his size standing next to handcrafted-by-God-and-Michelangelo-himself Steve Rogers. He wasn't… _small_ , or unable to please his lovers, or anything like that. No one he'd ever shared his bed with had certainly complained.

It was just… a bit humiliating, he supposed, the self-proclaimed playboy Tony Stark feeling inadequate because his dick looked tiny compared to Captain America's. Tony sighed in resignation, turning away to grab pull open one of the transport crates when Steve's hand shot out, fingers lightning quick snapping around Tony's wet, sticky arm.

"Cap?" Tony asked, suddenly worried that Steve could feel his pulse jackrabbiting where his thumb was tucked around the underside of his wrist. 

"We need-" Tony wasn't sure, but Steve's face might have been flushed again, and his eyes looked a little dark in the dim light of the tent. "We need to get you on a training regimen for whenever you're out of the armor." 

Dear God, Tony was going to spontaneously combust. Was he blushing? Was he even _capable_ of blushing anymore? "Darling, I am never out of my armor," Tony laughed, "present company excluded. I'm a busy man, you know."

Steve huffed, and his muscles rippled under his skin. "You can make time," he grunted, letting go of Tony's arm, his hand coming away dripping with the green goo from Tony's skin and - _Jesus Christ Stark, get it together before we're all uncomfortable here_ , he hissed at himself. "Cancel one of your dates. We'll box."

"I'll have you know those dates are sometimes the highlight of my day," Tony sniffed, grabbing some of the industrial grade soap and scrub brushes from the shelf across from him. Beside him, Cap grunted again, pulling a shard of glass out of his half-healed skin and Tony cursed. "Oh, hell, Cap, let me do that."

Some of the pieces required a little finagling because his skin had already healed over the glass, but most of it came out easily enough and Steve sighed in relief, almost, when the last shard was out and he could start scrubbing the soap over his face.

Once the suit and Cap's uniform were sealed up to be carted away, Tony got to scrubbing too, even though he thought it was a bit of a moot point. Better to be safe than sorry, he told himself idly, making sure to wash his hands and where the seams of the armor could potentially have let some of the powder in. The second rinse was colder than the first, and both of them shivered and dripped while they waited for towels and jumpsuits to be passed through the little flaps in the tent.

"Am I going to have to walk barefoot out of this facility?" Tony said with a heavy sigh. "Someone could at least bring me a martini if I can't get my slippers."

"No slippers or tequila in the decon pack, sorry," Jan said, sticking her tongue out with a little smirk.

"There's water on the jet," Steve said, clapping him on the shoulder as he walked by. And while apparently Steve was perfectly content with getting his feet all dirty, Tony was not.

"There's also a bottle of gin on my jet," Tony said haughtily once he'd caught up to Steve.

"Water and ration bars after decontamination," Steve quoted at him, and Tony made a face at the man. Steve's eyes slid down and to the right, then he rolled his eyes and sighed. "But chocolate is also good for making up those calories." 

"You know we made that rule for you, Mr. Super Soldier," Tony griped, though it warmed him a little bit that Steve was apparently breaking his own rules to let Tony have a candy bar. "Mostly because if we need to run you through decon, you've usually done some heavy work beforehand."

"Rules are rules," Steve almost, not-quite singsonged, pressing a hand to the small of Tony's back and pushing him ahead of him on the ramp up to the jet. 

There actually was a stash of chocolate bars next to the water bottles and ration packs, but Tony figured Steve could use them more, so he popped a couple squares in his mouth to appease the mother hen before shoving the rest of the bar plus two more at Steve. He chewed on them silently with a blissed almost-smile on his face, pacing up and down the deck with a little bounce in his step, snapping his fingers restlessly against his thigh.

Before, Tony would have bet a lot of money on Clint making some snarky comments about Steve getting all dopey-eyed over a couple of chocolate bars, but there was barely a peep from him on the flight home, and Jan had curled up in her seat and passed out five minutes after takeoff. Thor had opted to fly, so it was really just the two of them making idle chit-chat, though Steve's answers were tending towards the monosyllabic today. 

"You doin' alright, Cap?" Tony asked, finishing off his water so Steve couldn't make any snide comments if he grabbed the gin. Tony saw his jaw tighten, but he nodded, his muscles bunching under the soft cotton jumpsuit as he visibly reined himself in.

Eventually they landed at the mansion and scattered, because it would be a cold day in hell before Tony attended a post-mission briefing sober. There was a migraine, sharp and throbbing, building behind his eyeballs, and his joints were starting to feel the effects of the mission from earlier.

"Jarvis," Tony started, sipping at a martini. "Will you bring me my pills? And some Zofran, if you would."

"Of course, sir," someone-who-definitely-wasn't-Jarvis said with a bow, spinning on his heel.

"And set up an appointment with one of those lovely physical therapy girls for me," Tony yelled, wincing as the sound grated on his head. "I need a massage something awful." That would definitely do the trick, Tony decided. Lots of pills and booze and pretty girls rubbing his body down. He downed the rest of his drink with a gasp and sighed, padding over to the bar to mix himself another martini, extra dirty.

The scheduled briefing time came and Tony sashayed his way downstairs to the conference room where Thor, Jan, and Clint were already waiting, but Steve was nowhere to be seen. Well. That certainly put a pause in Tony's step. Had they finished already? "Did Cap step out to get something?" he asked, popping another Zofran under his tongue.

"Nay," Thor rumbled, his massive golden arms crossed across his chest. "The good Captain has not yet arrived."

"That's… unusual," Tony said, considering. He took a swig of his drink, washing the taste of sweet, chalky medicine from his mouth. "Did something come up?"

"Mm, last I saw he was in the gym trying to run a marathon on that fancy treadmill you got him," Jan piped up, rolling a pencil back and forth across the table.

Tony waited a moment for any kind of follow-up, but after about thirty seconds of silence Tony made a face, propping a hand on his hip. "So… I guess I'll just go get him then?"

"Yeah, sounds good," Clint said.

Tony sighed.

By the time Tony made his way to the gym, Steve had graduated from the treadmill to the punching bags. He was drenched from head to toe, and he must have been at it for a while considering how long it took for Steve to even break a sweat. As he watched, Steve reared his fist back, slamming it into the bag with a grunt; the bag split at the seams and sand started spilling onto the floor, and even Tony could see from the door that his knuckles were torn and bright red with blood.

"Steve!" Tony called out, nearly spilling his drink; Steve gave a full-body jerk and spun around, his shoulders heaving as he stared at Tony. He was gasping for breath, and his hair was plastered to his forehead from the sweat, and it took him a few seconds before he could talk.

"Tony," he eventually said, raising one bloody hand.

Tony suddenly felt wrong-footed about this whole thing. "Steve, we- we had a briefing, remember?" he said, setting his drink down on one of the benches and jogging forward. "Steve, your _hands_."

Steve looked down at his knuckles, at the purple, jagged skin and blew out a long breath. "Yeah, I—" He shook his head. "Mm. I forgot. Sorry."

"Steve, come on - at- at least wash your hands darling, you're bleeding all over my clean floor," Tony said with a weak grin; he hesitated, then reached out and grabbed Steve's elbow, trying to turn him towards the direction of the locker rooms. Steve made a small noise, but followed along easily enough, his eyes boring into Tony as he led him out of the gym and towards the sink. He didn't seem to react when Tony pulled his hands under the running water or washed his knuckles off with soap, or even when Tony dragged him to sit on one of the benches, but when Tony pulled out a first aid kit, he seemed to startle out of it, shaking his head.

"You don't need to do that, Stark, I heal up quick," Steve murmured, jerking his hands out of Tony's grip.

Tony grit his teeth. "It would make me _feel_ better," he sniped, wishing he hadn't left his drink outside. "Cap, you— you never forget mission briefings. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Mm," Steve said, but Tony couldn't quite tell if he was agreeing or not, staring-but-not-quite seeing down at Tony's hands as he dabbed ointment onto Steve's knuckles and wrapped him up in a swath of bandages. "I'm… I gotta go for a run," he said, standing up and shoving Tony to the side.

"Wh-? Cap?" Tony stood and whirled around, his jaw dropping as Steve started jogging out of the locker room. " _Steve!_ "

Luckily, he'd only migrated back to the treadmill, but he was already sprinting, his arms pumping back and forth, his chest heaving. It was almost like he couldn't decided if he wanted to stare off into space or look at everything around him, his eyes alternating between a soft, glazed appearance and his pupils darting back and forth across the gym.

Something was very much not right here.

"Cap, I'd like you to go down to Medical," Tony started slowly, one hand very, very carefully reaching over to the emergency shut off for the treadmill.

"My hands are fine," he grunted.

"I'm less worried about your hands and more worried about that substance you got smacked with earlier today," Tony said through gritted teeth. "I'd like to have someone check you over, Cap." Steve didn't respond and that- that really _pissed_ Tony off, okay? There was something _very_ wrong with him, and short of suiting up and forcibly dragging him up to the infirmary, there was nothing Tony could really do about it if Steve didn't agree with him. His fingers brushed against the emergency shut off and Steve's hand shot out quick like lightning, the fingers of his big, warm hand wrapped tight around Tony's wrist.

And Steve was still. _Running_.

"Steve," Tony said again, and Steve finally turned back to look at Tony, his feet stomping to either side of the treadmill. The sound of it was agony to his migraine. Steve's fingers tightened around his wrist, and Tony imagined he could hear his bones creaking. "Steve, I would like for you to let go of me now," Tony said, very slowly, pulling back on his hand.

Steve's hand tightened on his wrist, then loosened forcibly, and he stumbled off the side of the treadmill, collapsing and panting into the tile floor. "Tony," he whispered, wrapping his arms around his middle and gritting his teeth. "M'not— I. I don't feel good."

Tony dropped to his knees so suddenly he was sure there'd be bruises later. He brushed the hair from Steve's sweaty face, petting through the damp strands softly as he pulled out his phone so he could hit the panic button on his touch screen. "Oh, darling, I know," Tony murmured.

"I can't—" Steve's lashes were fluttering, and Tony could see the veins in his neck bulging outward. "It won't stop."

"Don't you worry, sweetheart, we'll make it stop," Tony promised, and waited for the calvary to arrive.

* * *

"I have no idea what this is," Jan admitted, pushing back from the microscope and yanking a hand through her hair. "His body's obviously working to metabolize it, but it's staying in his system and I have no idea why."

"God, his readings are off the charts," another woman murmured, grimacing at the number readouts on her screen. "Captain, I need you to take some deep breaths, okay? Your heart rate is spiking again."

"Can we give him another dose of Adenosine?" Tony asked. He grabbed a tablet off the stack in front of him and started scrolling, trying to make sense of the chemical makeup of the drug from the AIM lab they'd raided. On its own, it looked pretty much like any random drug from the street—an amphetamine-like stimulant designed to bind to various transport proteins—but once it hit Steve's bloodstream, the drug compounded upon itself, twisting and turning and latching onto various cells in his central nervous system and multiplying so fast even the serum couldn't keep up.

"It didn't really do much the first time," Jan sighed. "What about dialysis? Give his kidneys an extra boost to help flush out the toxins."

"Dialysis would only work if we saw the cells making their way to his endocrine system, but so far it all seems to be concentrated in the brain."

"We could try one of the Hulk tranquilizers?"

"N-no," Steve gritted out, his fingers tapping a steady rhythm across his biceps. "No more sedatives."

"Steve, we need to do something," Tony said gently, flipping to another tablet so he could see the latest scans of Steve's limbic system. "At this rate you're going to have a stroke."

"Honestly, I hesitate to give him much more of anything right now," the woman, Nguyen, admitted, reaching out to manually take Steve's pulse. She looked at her watch and frowned. "We've given him enough to put down an elephant and then some, and his heart rate is still climbing. I'm afraid if we give him much more, it could shut down his entire central nervous system."

"You know what's also going to shut down Steve's central nervous system? This goddamn drug in his bloodstream," Tony snapped, digging his thumb into his jaw in an attempt to relax the ache he was feeling from the constant teeth-grinding. Tony knew he was being snippy with everyone, but he couldn't afford to be nice right now, not with Steve's life in jeopardy. His phone buzzed on the table and Tony tapped it to accept the call. "Jill, darling, how are you, did you get the samples I sent you?" he drawled, forcing himself to relax just a hair.

" _Who the fuck comes up with this shit, Tony?_ " Jill said without preamble; papers ruffled in the background. " _From what I can tell, it's designed to attack the forebrain: the amygdala, the thalamus, the hypothalamus, the basal ganglia—_ "

"Basically the pleasure center of the brain," Jan told Steve apologetically. "It's responsible for short term memory, hormone regulation, your pain perception and sleep regulation, emotional regulation and decision-making—"

" _—all the good stuff,_ " Jill finished with a sigh. " _It's forcing his brain to pump out hormones and chemicals faster than his body can handle, which is why we keep seeing the adrenaline spikes, the impaired memory, and the reduced cognitive awareness. Stand by, I'm sending preliminary results to you._ "

"I've got them, Jill. Here, Jan, take a look at this," Tony said, sliding a tablet over to her side of the desk. "So this is like, what, some kind of souped up version of ecstasy? Cocaine? Cap can metabolize that in minutes."

" _Not quite_ ," Jill replied gently. Across the table, Jan was still scrolling through the readouts, her jaw clenched tight and a furrow in her brow. " _Basically, from what I can tell, it's reacting similar to stimulant/hallucinogenic drugs on the market - the chemicals are binding to Captain Rogers' neurons and sending out a bunch of signals that keep screaming 'fight fight fight'. I mean-_ " Jill broke off with a sigh, and Tony snatched his tablet back from Jan, who'd moved back to her own computer with wide eyes. _Care to share with the class, darling?_ Tony thought snidely, then chastised himself for his rudeness. It wasn't Jan's fault that Steve got hit with some goddamn superdrug.

"— _that's what I can't figure out though,_ " Jill was saying. " _It's a potent drug, yes, but Captain Rogers' body should be metabolizing and purging the drug from his system, but it's not— it's like the drug is-is-is hiding, from his immune system, or disguising itself somehow, or hell, maybe it's just adapting too quickly for Steve's body to keep up, I don't know._ "

Tony was going to scream. This was one of the best biochemical engineers in the country, maybe even the _world_. How was something they found in a two-bit hack's lab stumping them? "How the fuck does a group like AIM make something like this? They're all idiots," Tony snapped, flicking one of the tablets away from him. "This is far too sophisticated for this to be their first go at it."

"That's because they got it from us," Jan whispered, staring down at her computer screen in horror. "This is— this is based on one of the formulas Hank and Bruce and I were working on for the Hulk."

" _What_?" Tony hissed, spinning around in his chair. "What the hell were you trying to do - give him a nice healthy dose of speed? As if he wasn't already angry _enough_?"

"We were trying to do the exact opposite!" Jan yelled back. She threw her hands up in the air. "It was supposed to calm him down and force him to change back into Banner, but we couldn't get it to work and had to move on to the Hulk sedative. I don't even know how they _got_ it, let alone managed to turn it into _this_."

"Of course, darling, I'm sure Steve will understand that you didn't mean it when his _eyeballs_ explode," Tony shouted, throwing his tablet at the wall.

"I need to go for a run," Steve blurted. Tony and Jan whipped around to where Steve was sitting on the exam table, practically vibrating under his skin. Steve looked at the doctor monitoring his vitals. "Ma'am, can I go for a run?"

"It did seem to help stabilize him before," she said, chewing on her lip and flipping through some papers on her clipboard. "Intense physical activity seems to help with all the hormone fluctuations. Please keep the heart rate monitor and pager on you, Captain Rogers, and call us if your vitals exceed the threshold we discussed earlier."

"I'll go with you, darling," Tony started, gathering up his dozen or so tablets and papers and stacking them in his arms. "It'll be better if I just keep an eye on you—"

" _No_ ," Steve shouted, his fist flying out and into the wall. Plaster cracked and snapped under the pressure from his knuckles, and fresh blood welled up, thick and oozing through the bandages on his hands. Steve hit the wall again, punching straight through another layer of plaster, and Tony nearly dropped everything he was carrying in his rush to get over to him.

"Jesus Christ, Cap," Tony said roughly; he grabbed another roll of gauze from the cabinet and a first aid kit, slamming them on the countertop. "Darling, all you had to do was say no," he teased, opening the kit with shaky hands. "I can take a hint, no need for all these macho displays—" He turned to where Dr. Nguyen was peeling away the bandages on his hands, and Tony actually did drop the gauze, his gaze dropping to Steve's crotch despite all his efforts not to.

"It's alright, Captain," Dr. Nguyen murmured to Steve, who was in the middle of doing the world's best impersonation of a mute tomato. "This is probably one of the side effects. It's not surprising, considering the hormone fluctuation. I'm honestly shocked it hasn't happened sooner."

Tony knew he should insert some witty quip here, but it was all he could do to just bend down and pick up the gauze from the floor, lob it in the garbage and go grab another one. Don't think about Cap's dick, Tony told himself feverishly. Don't think about it.

_Dick dick dick dick_ , his mind chanted dishonorably, like the goddamn traitor it was. _Cap's dick_.

"—this could actually be a good thing, Captain," Nguyen was saying when Tony came out of his lust-induced stupor. "Orgasm is known to set your body to a sort of, equilibrium state, it could help balance out all the adrenaline and testosterone rushes you keep experiencing—"

_I could help balance out your adrenaline-_ Tony's nasty, vicious brain thought, and Tony bit down hard on his tongue.

Steve flinched, and cleared his throat roughly, dropping his eyes down to the floor. "No, thank you, ma'am. 'M- I'd rather just run." He was out the door before Tony could say boo, the door slamming shut behind him, and both women in the room shot Tony a sympathetic look.

Tony frowned, walked back over to his desk, and downed the rest of his drink. "I have an appointment," he muttered, grabbing his wallet and phone.

The sad part was he really _did_ have an appointment to talk about a new promising clinical trial—an appointment he was now three hours late for, but, well. It's not as if his oncologist wasn't used to his flighty lifestyle.

"I'd really like you to consider this treatment regimen, Tony," Dr. Roberts said once he'd finally sauntered into the man's office. "It's a little aggressive, but the results look promising, and we're seeing a shrinkage in tumor size on an average of twenty to thirty percent."

"In pigs," Tony said slowly, looking through some of the preliminary test results. "And… a percentage of the phase one participants."

"Tony, this is how clinical trials work," Roberts said gently. "If we supplement your chemotherapy with this drug, this could shrink your tumor. We could be looking at something small enough to operate. You could _live through this_ , Tony."

God Almighty, but there were too many could's in that spiel for Tony to be completely comfortable with this - for him to put his faith in a Goddamned _trial drug_. He'd come to terms with his mortality. He'd sold off most of his things. His company was still running, obviously, but he updated his will every week, and Cap and the other Ultimates would never have to worry about funding their escapades. It was— it was so _stupid_ for Tony to let himself hope over a bunch of _maybe's_ and six days at a time spent hurling over the toilet from the pain and chemo.

"Sign me up for the next available slot," Tony murmured, signing his name at the bottom of the form. He took a swig from his thermos, some fruity vodka concoction he'd thrown together in the limo. "And I'll see you Monday for chemo."

Here's to hoping he got to keep his hair, he supposed.

* * *

By the time he got back to the mansion, Tony wasn't too proud to admit he was dragging. While he'd achieved a somewhat comfortable buzz from the alcohol, it didn't quite have the desired effect; his head was still pounding, his body aching. Still, some pain relief was better than none, so Tony took what he could get, and went off in search of Cap. There hadn't been any alerts on his phone or the Ultimate comms, but _still_ -

Tony was worried. He had a text from Jill saying she and Jan were working on synthesizing some type of counteragent for the drug, but no progress had been made as of yet.

Steve wasn't in the gym (like Tony expected he'd be), and he wasn't in Medical, so by the time he was knocking at the door to Steve's bedroom, Tony was about ready to pull his hair out from the stress. _Rogers is going to make me lose my hair before the chemo even has a chance_ , he thought hysterically, and a sharp whine came from inside the bedroom.

"Cap?" Tony called out, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. He pressed his ear up against the door and tried to resist the urge to barge in immediately. "Steve? Darling, is everything alright?"

Silence, and then Tony could hear harsh, heavy panting behind the door. There was another noise from Steve, like he was in _agony_ , and- and scruples be _damned_ , Tony was not going to wait outside for permission while Steve was in the middle of a goddamn medical emergency.

"Steve, I'm coming in," Tony warned, twisting the handle and shoving the door open. "Steve, I need you to answer m— oh." _Oh_.

He'd changed, obviously, since earlier: clad in a plain white tee and a pair of loose grey sweatpants. But Steve was currently hunched over the side of the bed, fists clenched, his head hanging heavy and his hips in the air, and—and _God Almighty_ —Steve was dripping with sweat, his hair clinging to his forehead and his face twisted up in despair, but perhaps the most surprising thing of all was the positively _indecent_ erection tenting his sweatpants, a huge wet spot darkening the front of his pants practically down to his thighs. His hips hitched and jerked in the air, like he wanted to rut against the bedspread but couldn't bring himself to do it, and he was making desperate, choked-off little moaning sounds in between gasps for breath.

Oh, Tony was going to hell. "S-Steve," he stuttered, one hand shooting up to wipe at his beard (he couldn't be drooling - that would be perverse, it would be so inappropriate, but he had to check, alright? He had to be _sure_ -), and all the gin he'd had on the drive over seemed to hit him all at once, throwing a dizzying flush from his head to his belly. "Steve, darling, w— what's the matter, what can I d—"

"It _hurts_ ," Steve sobbed, rolling his face against the bedspread and grinding his fists down. "Tony, I-I-I, _please_ -"

This had to be payback for that one girl he'd slept with at that New Year's party one year and left before the ball dropped. Oh _God_ , Tony was going to hell—

Tony was at Steve's side before he knew it, his hands hovering scant centimeters above the skin, and he- he didn't know what to _do_ \- "Steve, honey," Tony said helplessly, licking his lips. "We need to get you back to Medical—"

" _No_ ," Steve ground out. His jaw was clenched so so tight, and his eyebrows were knit so close together. "They can't— they can't do anything," he panted out. "That's- that's what the doctor said. That I have to ride it out. And, and, and it'll either make its way out of my system, or—"

Or it'd shut his body down, Tony thought with a sharp pang in his chest. That's why he was in his room, hiding away like a wounded cat waiting to die. "O-okay," Tony acquiesced, "but what about more running? They said that physical activity helped abate the symptoms, right?"

Steve choked out another sob, then finally opened his eyes, bloodshot and glazed over with fever and need. He blinked blearily at Tony, then looked pointedly down at his erection. "It's… it's a little difficult at the moment, Stark."

Okay, that was fair. Tony fought back the heat he felt crawling up his neck. "Okay, well then, why don't you just… take care of the issue, and then you can hit the gym again. Maybe- maybe lay off the punching bags though," Tony said, eyeing the bloody bandages on his knuckles. How fresh were they? How many times had he split open his skin while Tony was off getting stupid cancer advice? "Did you- I mean, have you tried the other thing Dr. Nguyen suggested? How- how long has this been an issue?" Tony asked gently.

" _Hours_ ," Steve grit out, his lashes fluttering again. He looked- he looked so out of it, so very _unlike_ Steve, and it made him ache, right beneath his breastbone, so that Tony wanted to just reach out and wrap him in his arms. "Dr. Nguyen said it was one of the side effects," he said miserably, clenching his fists, panting hotly against his bicep. "That it might even have been the point of the whole thing."

And oh, didn't _that_ make a load of sense? What would be more… more humiliating than Captain America, paragon of wholesome restraint and virtue, reduced to some mindless, rutting animal? Too wound up to fight (to think even), just an overactive amygdala and an overwhelming sense of need.

"I-I-I tried—" Steve's voice cracked, his teeth chattering loudly in the din of the room. "I tried her advice," he continued miserably, squeezed his eyes shut. "B-but it w-wouldn't go away, and my— I was too sore, I—had to stop."

Images of Steve jerking off assaulted Tony's traitorous, overeager mind. He'd probably treated it like he did everything else:like a mission, like a _chore_ , stroking his cock so hard and so long that he'd chafed, that he had to hold off cuz he'd rubbed his dick raw. Desire pulsed in his groin, and it sent a shudder of wanting down to his toes. God, he was such a creep, he was a fucking mess—

Hesitantly, Tony placed a hand on Steve's arm and he melted, a long, drawn-out moan ripping from his throat, and Tony almost wrenched his hand away before recognizing that that hadn't been a bad sound, but a very, very _good_ one. Tony could see Steve's cock jerk in his sweatpants, could practically see the precome dripping from his tip and wetting the soft cotton even further. _One express elevator to Dante's Inferno_ , Tony thought hysterically, and tightened his grip on Steve's bicep.

"Steve," Tony whispered gently. "Sweetheart, I know it's hard for you right now, but I want you to listen to me, okay?" This was— this was all kinds of wrong, Tony, he was just as bad as Tiberius Stone, he was as bad as _Greg_ , and here he was—

Steve rolled his head to the side so he could look up from under his golden lashes at Tony, all wet and dark and clumped together. "That's a boy," Tony murmured. "Okay, listen, Steve, listen very carefully to me, darling, you, you can't keep putting your fist through the wall, alright? You're beating yourself up faster than you can heal—"

"Tony, I know—" Steve sobbed again.

"—and you need to give your dick a break," Tony continued, oh so gently, because Steve needed gentle right now. He couldn't handle anymore rough treatment, and (if Tony was honest with himself) Steve could stand to receive a little tenderness from time to time. "But I, I—, I have a better idea, cupcake, I have an idea that should make it easier on you, yeah?" Tony murmured, using his other hand to pet through the sweat-soaked strands of Steve's hair. Tony was an _awful_ person, truly, how on earth he thought Steve was capable of giving consent right now -

"So what I'd like to propose," Tony continued on, digging his fingers into Steve's scalp and shuddering at the full-body moan he gave. "W-what I'd like to propose is for you to let me help you out a little, yeah? We'll work off some of this energy, some of this adrenaline, and you don't have to worry about hurting yourself anymore, okay?"

"Yeah?" Steve asked, all wide- and glassy-eyed, his cheeks flushed a pretty coral pink, and Tony wanted to just kiss him, to feel the warmth of Steve's desire on his lips, and how sick did that make him? A normal person—a _good_ person—would be trying to find someone Steve would actually want were he capable of consenting, not— not thinking about offering himself up on a silver platter for the man. A good man would go find a nice good girl for Steve to fuck, and then another nice girl when the first one got tired, and so on and so forth.

"Yeah, tiger," Tony murmured, kneading lightly at Steve's neck. Jeez, he was tense. "I could— I could help you out, yeah? With your… problem." Tony almost grimaced. God, he was supposed to be smooth, a playboy, a whore, and he couldn't even properly seduce a hard-and-wanting Steve Rogers? But, Steve— he, he moaned, long and low, and sort of collapsed, against the bed, falling down to his knees and leaning his head against the corner of the mattress. He was panting like he was mid-mission, like he was running full-speed in a knock down drag out against the Hulk, and Tony just— if he was going to propose this to Steve, he couldn't, couldn't do this without giving Steve all his options.

It was the least he could do for him.

"Now, it's, it's a bit of a delicate situation, I admit," Tony continued on, kneeling down beside him, "but you have options, alright? However long this lasts. I'd recommend someone from the team, because it'd be bad news if something like this got out, but— but I know a service. They're discreet. They could send over some girls and you could pick one out—"

" _No_ ," Steve growled, shaking his head.

Tony's heart fluttered, and he stamped down the tiny piece of hope in him. "Okay, so no escorts, that's fine, but you know, there's always Wanda, or, or Jan, or—well, maybe not Clint or Pietro, and we need to keep Thor available in case we need a heavy hitter, so he can't be stuck in bed for however long, but I mean—" _Well, here went nothing_ , "Or, or me. I could stay with you. Help you out."

Steve whined again, soft and almost breathy, and Tony tried not to take it to heart, because Steve was in pain and he was very, very heterosexual, God, just because he was here offering himself up in a silver platter didn't mean Steve _wanted_ him like that. "I, I know things are a little awkward with Jan right now," Tony whispered, "and you don't really know Wanda all that well, but, but there's no one on this team who wouldn't help you, alright? Not a single one of us." Tony licked his lips, felt his certainty waver, his throat tighten. "I can, I can go call Jan up and we can set you both up with an economy-sized bottle of lube and some condoms, and just- just let you two have a good time—"

"Tony," Steve groaned, and it sounded enough like a laugh that Tony couldn't resist giggling with him, his eyes a little hot and watery. Steve reached out then, and grabbed Tony's hand, like a handshake almost, like they were making a business deal. "I- I… I would like you to— to stay with me. I don't…" Steve took a shaky breath, shook his head as if to clear it. "I don't want to hurt anybody," he said roughly; his tongue darted out to wet his chapped lips, and Tony's eyes zeroed in on the movement. He needed to hydrate; Tony should've, he really should have brought Steve some water, or some Gatorade. Maybe a few ration bars, since he probably hadn't eaten since the plane ride earlier. "You're strong, Tony," Steve whispered then, looking up at Tony under those beautiful blond lashes. "You wouldn't let me hurt you." 

_Darling, that ship sailed a long time ago_ , Tony thought affectionately, something soft and tender blooming in his chest. "I happen to like a little pain from time to time," he said aloud, a low, rumbling purr, scooting closer to Steve on his knees. "Cap, darling- Steve," he whispered, "I— I know it's very hard to concentrate right now, but I want you to be very sure this is what you want-"

" _Tony_ ," Steve growled; he leaned forward and knocked his forehead to Tony's. " _Yes_."

"Okay," Tony whispered gently, sliding his palm along the line of Steve's strong, tense, trembling jaw. "Okay, let's take care of you, big guy, yeah?" He reached down with his other hand slowly, cataloguing his movements for Steve, and laid his palm to Steve's wet, sticky thigh. God, he was so hot, and tense, his muscles quivering under his skin like he couldn't bear to hold himself still. As Tony's hand slid upwards, drifting to the crease of his groin, Steve shuddered and moaned, his whole body uncoiling. "Yeah, big boy, that's it," Tony cooed, soft and soothing, and never letting go of his face. "Just— just think of whoever you need to to get through this, yeah? Everything's going to be okay." Then Tony's hand was on him, the whole hot velvety steel length of him, just the barest amount of pressure from the heel of his hand on Steve's dick.

" _Oh_ ," Steve choked out, his whole face twisting up in pleasure, and he came, spilling into his pants.

That was… possibly one of the hottest things Tony had ever seen in his entire _life_. Tony resisted the urge to pinch himself and instead leaned forward, rearranging them so that Steve was braced against the bed and tugging his wet, come-stained pants off. Steve's cock was still hard, and gloriously uncut, flushed with blood and nearly purple at the head, drenched in his own come from his navel down to his balls. As Tony stared (drank him in, really), Steve's cock gave an interested twitch, and he rolled his head to the side, hiding his face in his arm.

"Hey, hey, there's nothing to be ashamed of here," Tony murmured, fingers gently scratching at a thick furred thigh. "You've been like this for hours, right? Anyone would be ready to go off." Steve snorted, his cheeks warming to a pretty shade of pink, and Tony took the small victory for what it was. "Now it looks like this fella still needs a little help," Tony continued with a grin, fingers wrapping one by one over the base of Steve's shaft. Steve grunted, his hips jumping, and he bit down on the fleshy part of his forearm. "Do you mind if I…?" Tony asked gently.

Steve nodded against his arm. "Please," he whispered, and how could Tony not?

He fell forward, nosing into the curls at his groin, and started to lick up the come all over his skin, and Steve jolted, moaned like a goddamn porn star as Tony's tongue curled around the base of his groin, the sharp curve of his hipbone, his soft, sensitive belly button. When his lips closed around the tip of his cock, Steve gasped and gave a full-body shudder, his teeth digging even harder into his skin. Tony hummed his disapproval and reached up to grab his hand and pull it down to tangle in his hair. Steve's fingers latched on tight, and Tony hummed again, this time in pleasure as Steve tugged and yanked on the thick, short curls.

He tasted so sweet, a little salty but mostly just _delicious_ , and he luxuriated in the strong smell of Steve, so close the base scent of him: something spicy and a little earthy and warm. When Tony relaxed his throat, let his fat cockhead knock against the back of it, Steve swore furiously, a sharp " _Jesus, Mary, and Joseph_ " under his breath, and tightened his fingers in Tony's hair again and he sucked him all the way down, the spasming of his throat working around the most sensitive part of him.

"Tony, Tony, Tony," Steve panted, whined really, his thighs flexing under him as Tony sucked and slurped and dribbled spit from his lips down to his goatee. Steve moaned again, and Tony showed mercy, slowly pulled his mouth off of him with a slick _pop_ , swirling his tongue around the head like it was a lollipop.

"That good for you, soldier?" Tony asked roughly, pressing a wet, messy kiss to the tip, fingers massaging lightly at his balls. God, Tony's cock was aching, straining against the soft fabric of his slacks. He felt like he'd been hard for so long, his head was swimming with it, the need to just press his cock up against Steve's abs and rut until he came. Tony bit his lip and moaned, pressed his hand to the base of himself to stave off the worst of it. This wasn't about him; it was about Steve, and what he needed. 

Tony swirled his tongue around the tip of Steve's cock again, lapping gently at his slit and sucking away the salty-sweet precome that dripped from him. It was heady, the weight and the taste of Steve on his tongue, the way it jerked when he bobbed his head or played at his foreskin. Tony wondered if he was this sensitive everywhere. Would sucking on his neck warrant the same response? His nipples? _Well, chances are you're going to find out, Stark_ , he thought to himself, albeit grimly. He swallowed him down a few more times, sucking as he slid the hot, heavy weight of him in his mouth, and caressing the shaft of Steve's dick with his tongue when he pulled up. "Does that feel good, champ?" Tony murmured, flicking his eyes up so he could look under his lashes up at Steve. "Are you gettin' what you need?"

Steve flinched, rolled his hips where Tony had him pinned. Suddenly the ceiling was a lot more interesting to the super soldier, and he clenched his hands into fists, the one in Tony's hair just the wrong side of too hard before it softened, petting sloppily over Tony's sweat-soaked hair. "I-I-I, I'm not—" His throat swallowed convulsively, sucking saliva back behind his teeth. "Stark I'm— I'm not—" Steve shook his head, his lashes fluttering, and let his mouth hang open, his jaw working furiously around words he couldn't quite form. "I-I, is this—" he murmured anxiously. "D-does this m-make me—"

Shame washed over him like a bucket of ice water, and Tony felt his eyes begin to sting. Of course Steve was worried that this was going- going to make him _gay_ , or that Tony was going to read more into this than there actually was. "Oh, Steve," he whispered, laving his tongue along the band of foreskin on his dick. Tony was an idiot, a goddamn idiot. Steve didn't want to be here (wouldn't be here if it weren't for that drug), and pretending he did was only going to get Tony hurt. "Honey, this doesn't— this doesn't mean anything," he rasped, and his vision started to blur from- from the gin. Maybe he should go get Jan, after all. "This doesn't make you anything you don't want to be," Tony murmured, and swallowed that monster of a cock down his throat before it felt too raw to do anything else.

It didn't take long (Tony wasn't particularly surprised, given how responsive Steve was) before Steve was tensing up underneath him, his hands and thighs trembling and a steady stream of _Oh, oh, oh_ 's spilling from his lips, and there was barely a warning tug in Tony's hair before Steve was coming in thick, hot pulses, that sweet come filling up his mouth and spilling out his lips. God, it was all he could taste, that warm musk of Steve on his tongue and in his throat, the scent of him in his nose, the feel of him underneath him. Steve was still shuddering when Tony sat up, his throat and knees a little sore, but none the worse for wear, and he looked up at Tony through lust-blown eyes before he surged forward and kissed him, licking the taste of himself from Tony's lips. "Don't leave," Steve sobbed into his mouth. "Please don't go."

Tony moaned aloud, even as he felt the back of his neck heat. He scrabbled at Steve's shoulders and held on for dear life as Steve trembled and shook and kissed Tony within an inch of his life, all sharp teeth and wet, sloppy tongue. Steve jerked again, and Tony could feel another gush of come spurt out along his thigh, and Steve shivered uncontrollably, his mouth going soft and lax under his. Tony pulled him forward, so Steve's forehead was resting on his shoulder, and petted him through the aftershocks, one hand in his hair and one rubbing soothingly down his flank.

It seemed to take Steve a while to settle, his mind syrupy slow from the thick, hazy fog of the drug. Tony certainly couldn't move a Steve Rogers who didn't want to be moved, but he was conscious enough to help Tony shuffle him up to the bed, back against the headboard. He was still breathing deeply, but not as fast or harsh as before the two orgasms. That, more than anything, gave Tony a bit of relief. Thank _God_ he could at least give Steve something: some way to help him through this awful experience.

After another quick check on Steve, Tony ran through a mental list of everything they'd need to ride out this stupid drug. He'd need to run across the hall to his room for supplies; they would need towels, condoms, and lube, maybe some dental dams if Steve was feeling adventurous enough to let Tony put his tongue in his ass. Would Steve be lucid long enough for Tony to get him to shower? Tony wasn't sure, so he'd need a box of wet wipes, as well.

"Never let it be said I'm not prepared," Tony murmured to himself as he dug through his medicine cabinet. Would Steve potentially need an entire roll of gauze? Better throw it in the bag. Could he benefit from one of those heat patches for sore muscles? Tony threw that in the duffel, as well. Steve was still only semi-conscious when he dropped the bursting duffel bag at the foot of the bed, so he ran downstairs to grab a bunch of drinks and protein packs.

Thor was in the kitchen already, his hands curled around a large glass stein. His eyes snapped to Tony with a knowing look when he dashed in. He was probably a mess, Tony realized, with his rumpled shirt and slacks, his lips bruised candy red and hair in complete disarray. _Just grab the stuff and get out_ , Tony thought frantically as he rooted through the fridge. 

"How is he?" Thor asked.

"Not great," Tony admitted, avoiding Thor's eyes as he grabbed another cooler to fill with food. "He's… he's kind of in and out of it. We're trying to wear him out, see if that'll help his body metabolize the drug faster." Gosh, when Tony said it like it, he sounded almost noble about the whole thing. Don't worry Steve! All this sex you don't have the mental capacity or choice to consent to is just so you don't die! That makes it all better, right? Tony's lip curled in disgust as he stared down at the cooler of snacks.

Thor frowned in thought, stared down at the swirling amber liquid in his glass. "It is a most admirable venture you are undertaking," he said then, lifting the stein to take a modest sip, "but I would... caution you to be careful, Tony. I do not wish to see my friend hurt."

Great. Of course Thor knew, _of course he did_. "I'm not- I'm not going to _hurt him_ ," Tony sputtered, tamping down on a sudden wave of anger. Thor knew him better than that. "It's just sex. What kind of a person do you think I am, Thor?"

"You misunderstand me," Thor murmured, finishing off his drink and setting it to the side. He looked up at Tony with wide, earnest blue eyes, like he could fucking see every sick, twisted thought in his head (and he was a god, so who knew? Maybe he actually could). "It is never 'just sex' with you, Tony," Thor said then, his hands clasped together on the table, his arms bunching as if he was holding himself back from doing something sentimental like reaching out and hugging Tony or some other such nonsense.

Tony's ears burned, and he turned his focus down to the cooler in his arms. "I don't know who you've been talking to," Tony started steadily (far more steadily than he felt, actually), "but it is _always_ just sex with me."

"You know you don't need to do this, right?" Thor asked him, gently.

Tony sighed, kicked his socked heel against the tile floor. "Who else is going to do it?" he asked, even though his chest was burning with selfish possessiveness. _I don't want anyone else to do this_ , he thought. _I want to be the one who… the one who—_

Thor frowned, drew a line through the condensation on his glass. "If you need anything," he said in lieu of a proper response, "do not hesitate to ask, Tony."

Tony's shoulders sagged in relief. "Will do, buddy," he murmured, knocking shoulders with him as he passed.

Tony was throwing some bottles of electrolyte drink into an ice chest when Steve snapped awake, a soft, questioning noise in the back of his throat, and Tony was there immediately, sliding back onto the bed, one hand rubbing across the broad muscle of his chest.

"Hey there, Captain Handsome," Tony murmured, lips quirking in a small smile. "Ready for round two— _oh_ —" There was a Steve in his lap, a naked and very hard Steve grinding into Tony's abs, his sweaty forehead brushing against Tony's.

"S'ok?" he rumbled, his hands digging into the soft flesh of Tony's waist, his hips hitching against Tony's. "S'ok? I can?"

"Whatever you need," Tony promised, and Steve was clenching finger-shaped bruises into Tony's sides, pressing soft kisses to Tony's cheek and jaw and lips as he rutted against him. Tony hissed, and moaned, felt his cock harden in his soft silky panties. It felt like he hadn't come in so long, and the- the thought of just rubbing against Steve like this until he came was so tempting it made his entire body throb with need. "The sky's the limit here, Cap," Tony continued, mouthing at the edge of Steve's jaw. "I can jerk you off. Or you could fuck my mouth? Work off some of that energy that's got you buzzin'."

Steve huffed out a short, shuddering breath. "Can you— with your hand?" he asked, tilting his head back and panting at the ceiling.

Tony felt his chest flutter before he could help himself. "Yes, of course, darling, I can do that," he murmured, fingers curling gently around the base of his cock. Steve gasped, and Tony rolled his thumb just under the head, rubbing gently at the foreskin there so he could watch the pearly beads of precome well up just so. "You just lie back and let me take care of you, Steve," Tony whispered and began to stroke him, ever-so-gently, his hand working up and down his fat, throbbing cock.

Steve trembled, his hands fisting in the sheets, and Tony curled his fingers a little tighter, twisted his palm on the upstroke and letting it tighten up as he slid it back down. His cock was so— so red, flushed and and dark and wet, dripping all over the two of them so much that the sound of it echoed around them, slick and sexual. He came maybe twice like that, or maybe the orgasm was just intense, come spurting over his abs and pecs and even up to his collarbone. Steve whined when Tony slid a fingertip through the mess on him and slipped it between his lips, humming at the taste. God, he was delectable. "Mmm," Tony hummed again, bending forward and lapping at the come on his stomach. "Mmmmm."

Another moan, almost a shout, burst from Steve's lips, and his cock jerked wetly against his stomach, a thin dribble of come spurting from the tip that Tony immediately zeroed in on and sucked from the sweet, hot, velvety skin of him. " _Tony_ ," Steve moaned, like he'd just gone one-vee-one with a tank, and Tony could hear the sharp rip of fabric beneath them, Steve's forearms trembling, his biceps bulging. "Tony, I- oh _God_ ," he moaned, and the bedspread ripped again as Steve shook again, rolling his head to the side and into the pillow beneath him. "Tony, _please_ —"

"Please what, darling?" Tony cooed, and he knew it was a bit mean, lapping at him when he was obviously sensitive and gunning for it, but he swirled his tongue firmly around a blot of come at his nipple, and Steve jerked like he'd been hit by a livewire, his entire back bowing up and nearly bucking Tony off him from the force of it. "Woah there, cowboy," Tony said with a laugh, tightening his thighs around Steve's hips and taking one short, short moment to savor the sensation of his cock pressing down into Steve, the soft silkiness of his panties and slacks against the glistening hardness of Steve's pelvis and, oh, goodness, it felt amazing. Steve huffed, one hand grabbing Tony at the hip, the other sliding forward to grind against Tony's aching cock, and Tony nearly bit through his lip from the effort to stop from sobbing.

"You're hard," Steve said, slowly, like he was still piecing it together, but it still sent a rush of heat to Tony's face and neck, intense enough he was sure Steve could see it. "For— for me. For me?" Steve sighed, his pretty golden lashes fluttering, and began to rub the heel of his hand against Tony through his slacks. Tony did moan this time, loud through his teeth and the hands he'd covered his face with.

"W—we don't," Tony's teeth chattered, and he had to consciously stop his hips from rolling into Steve's hand. "—This isn't about me, Rogers," he tried again, biting down on a knuckle and sobbing. "I'm not the one who needs an ultramarathon of the bedroom rodeo to keep my body from shutting down, buddy."

Steve frowned up at him, all grumpy and adorable, and it looked nothing like it usually did when he was all pissed off and ready to shout at Tony, because all he did was reach up to tug at the zipper of Tony's slacks, and run two huge fingers down the soaking wet fabric of Tony's panties. There was a high-pitched whine that Tony belatedly realized had come from _him_ , and Tony tried to shrink away but Steve held him tight.

"Tony," he said, soft, a little gruff, and all New York, "I _like_ it." He reached inside Tony's panties, cupping Tony's wet, hot, throbbing cock, and Tony sobbed again from the feeling of it. "D'd'ya think I'd want you t'be here if ya didn't want t'be?"

"Y-you-you know h-how I'm always— willing to take one for the team," Tony said, trembling, his hips hitching and rolling against the sweet sweet pressure of Steve's hand against him.

Steve's hand stilled, and he brought his other hand to tilt Tony's chin down to look at him. "If… that's why you're here," he whispered roughly, "I'd— rather you just... go."

Tony blinked away the heat and sudden moisture in his eyes. "N-no darling," he whispered, biting at his lower lip. "That's not why I'm here."

Steve nodded, and curled his fingers around Tony's cock, urging Tony to do the same. "Good," he whispered, shutting his eyes when Tony squeezed his dick just right. He let himself stroke Steve just like that, soft and loving and gentle (all the ways Steve probably never allowed himself to be touched), just coaxing the pleasure out of him millimeter by millimeter. Tony was starting to learn his preferences now, what really revved him up, like rubbing softly against the head of his cock, into the hot weeping slit. Steve really seemed to like a sharp bite with his pleasure; he hadn't quite found his limit yet, but Tony was hesitant to really experiment with some of the kinkier stuff with Steve so in and out of it. Who was to say pain was something Steve actually liked, or if it was just a side effect of the drug?

And it wasn't that Steve was against pleasure; Steve was probably one of the most responsive people he'd ever been with. He loved when Tony blew him, when he sucked that hot, huge monster of a dick down his throat, and Tony loved how surprised Steve was when he did it, every time, like he didn't expect Tony to want to put Steve's big, beautiful cock as far down his throat as he could (even when it made him choke and gag, and spit dribble down his mouth and jaw). He turned such a pretty coral pink, a rosy hot flush from his cheeks down to his sweet, perky nipples, even as far as his abs and thighs when he started getting close, the juddering shake and tightening of his thighs warning Tony of his impending orgasm. The harder he came, the longer his respite from the drug was, Tony noticed, so he made it his sole mission to make every orgasm even better than the last.

Tony could see when he hazed out again: his pupils dilated, his words started to stick in his throat, and his muscles seemed to ripple underneath his skin. Steve groaned and sat up, clasping either hand to Tony's jaw and licking into his mouth. "Tony," he panted, "Tony, Tony, Tony." Almost faster than Tony could track, he was flipping them so Tony was the one on his back, Steve straddling Tony's thighs, hunched over and moaning into the sheets. "Please," he whispered, hitching his hot, wet cock hitching along the crease of Tony's pelvis. "Please, please, I need—" Steve's hands slammed into the mattress on either side of Tony's head, his arms trembling.

"I got you, honey, I got you," Tony soothed and rubbed his hands, soft and soothing up and down Steve's flank. "Come on, baby - scoot up a bit." Tony urged him to shuffle forward, so that Steve's cock was slipping hot and damp against the skin of his cheek. "Yeah," Tony murmured, shivering. "Just like that, slugger. Now you just— just go to town, alright? If I need you to stop, I'll squeeze your thigh just like this." Tony squeezed Steve twice in quick succession, though if he was being fair it was more for Steve's benefit than his own. Who knew if Steve would even _be_ coherent enough to recognize Tony asking to stop? Not that Tony was _planning_ on telling Steve to stop (even if it hurt a little and he lost his voice, bruised his throat to hell), but it seemed to comfort Steve to know that he'd thought about it. "Now go ahead and fuck my face, Handsome," Tony murmured, smirking up at Steve with some of his finest Antonio E. Stark charm.

"Yeah," Steve breathed, soft and a little shy, and then he was dragging a hand through Tony's hair and down to his jaw to thumb the corner of Tony's mouth open so he could feed his cock between Tony's lips.

Tony moaned before he could help himself: shocked, almost, at the intensity of the lust he felt, deep down in his belly and his balls. He suckled at the head of Steve's cock,just sucking at the salty-sweet precome there while Steve gently rolled his hips over Tony's face, like he was trying to psyche himself up to the act, even though Tony had given him explicit permission, signed, sealed, and personally delivered. When Tony dropped his jaw, let another moan slip from his mouth, Steve gasped and fucked his hips forward, his dick shoving further in and bumping against the back of his tongue. It made the back of his throat twitch, almost like a spasm, and another burst of precome flooded his mouth as Steve's dick jerked between his lips. Tony hummed, sliding his hands up to Steve's ass and pushing on it, trying to get the message across that _Yes, Steve, it really is okay for you to fuck my face_.

Steve made a small noise in the back of his throat, his hips hitching forward again, and when Tony pushed his tongue hard against the underside of his cock, he whined and gave a full-body shudder before rearing back and fucking his cock hard down Tony's throat.

Tony moaned, felt his dick jerk against his belly, slapping wetly into the hot dampness of his panties. Steve rolled his hips again, pulling out long enough for Tony to suck at the soft, velvety head of him before sliding back in and holding his cock right at the edge of his throat. There was a trick to it (deepthroating, that is), almost like riding a bicycle - you just had to hop back on it and start _doing_ it. So Tony's throat flexed and he gagged for half a second before he relaxed, letting the head and part of his shaft slip down past his mouth and into the back of his throat. Steve's hips twitched, and he fucked out, and then in, shallow and torturously slow.

Tony moaned, again and again, kneaded his fingers into the firm flesh of Steve's ass as he tried to swallow Steve's cock down even further, tried to tell him how okay it was for Steve to push it all the way when his mouth was already so full of him. Tony's own hips rolled, and he whined, lifted his head up just far enough that he could let his throat spasm around Steve's fat, dripping cockhead. Steve shouted, like it was punched out of him, and what was left of Steve's self-control melted into nothingness. He fucked his hips forward, driving his dick deep down Tony's throat, so quick and hard that Tony could barely even suck at him, couldn't do anything but lay back and enjoy the ride. _This was super soldier stamina_ , Tony realized with a jolt of heat in his cock, digging his fingers into Steve's thighs as he sped up even further, the head of Steve's cock just barely slipping over his tongue before it was ramming back down Tony's throat, again and again with no sign of stopping.

Tony whined, squeezed his legs together, and tried not to embarrass himself as Steve continued to fuck his face. His jaw ached, spit dripped down his cheeks and chin, and Tony could feel his throat start to flutter and choke as Steve seemed to show no sign of slowing down. One of the thrusts hit particularly hard, and Tony gagged, coughed around the hot length of him, but Steve just moaned and sped his thrusts even further. Another whine, almost a yelp, ripped its way from Tony's throat, and Tony had to reach down and squeeze at his balls, had to hump the air above him to try and get some friction on his dripping, over-sensitive cock. God, he wanted Steve's dick in his mouth forever, could write a fucking epic on how good it felt to have the man jam his cock down his convulsing, raw, overworked throat. His thrusts weren't particularly long, but they were deep and they were _fast_ , fast enough that Tony could hardly catch the tiniest huffs of air when he pulled out.

It was goddamn bliss, is what it was.

Tony could feel snot dripping from his nose and his eyes filling up with tears, but all that he could focus on was how _good_ Steve's cock felt in his throat, filling him up and pervading his senses with the musky-sweet scent of him. Sweat poured over Steve, dripping from his abs and pelvis to the sides of his face, from his balls to Tony's neck and chest. His thighs, thick and hard and _powerful_ flexed and moved on either side of him, the soft golden hairs catching the light from the lamp on the bedside table just so, glittering. Tony could feel Steve's feet flexing into the sheets, his hands fisting the coverlet, the loud, jagged moans ripping from his throat as he pulled in and out, kept fucking in and out of Tony's mouth. His cock ached, and his balls were heavy and tight against his skin, and Tony had to physically stop himself from reaching down to jerk himself off.

_Focus on Steve, focus Stark_ , Tony thought deliriously, or maybe it was just the lack of oxygen as Steve's thrusts became shallower, just barely fucking in and out of Tony's throat and blocking off his windpipe. Steve's thighs trembled, his biceps flexed and tensed, and eventually Tony could feel him come, the hot spurt of him dripping down Tony's throat and choking him again as Steve just grinded hard and fast.

When Steve finally pulled his cock out, come spilled out, over his tongue and out his mouth, and Tony sputtered and coughed and gasped and dear God, Tony had never felt so turned on in his life. Tony moaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he rolled on his side, licking the come from his lips and panting and pressing the heel of his hand against his cock.

Steve dropped down, his hips sliding down Tony's face and chest as he slid down so they were face to face, Steve's dark azure eyes locked onto him. He licked the come from his face, groaning softly and knocking their foreheads together.

"Again?" Steve asked softly, pressing his body as tight as he could to Tony's.

And, well—

Who was Tony to deny him?

* * *

"Ah, _ah_ —" Steve gasped, moaned a broken string of syllables, rolled his hips into the hot, wet heat and suction around his cock. God, it felt so good, something nice to focus on with the fire consuming him, buzzing through his veins and lighting him up from the inside. His head felt thick and soft, stuffed with cotton candy, like his ears were crackling with the stuff. "Oh," he moaned, hips jerking. " _Tony_ —"

He was on top now, pawing at the mouth that was under him, slack and sloppy and open. Steve grunted, had to dig his forehead into the sheets and groan, push his cock in and as far back as the throat would allow. Three thick drops of sweat slid down his forehead to his nose. _Drip, drip, drip_. Everything hurt - his head, his back, his cock, even his jaw (probably from clenching his teeth too hard). Steve gasped, choked a little on his spit, and rolled his face against the covers. "Tony," he sobbed out, his voice hitching. He just, he _knew_ Tony would make it all better— 

"I got you, sunshine," a warm, rough voice murmured, and then there was a hot, calloused hand on his cock. Steve thought he might've actually wept. He shuddered, dropped his head on Tony's shoulder.

"Please, Tony," Steve mumbled, biting at his lip before mouthing messily at Tony's collarbone. "Please, please, _please_ —"

"Thor, get _out_ —" someone shrieked, and there were hands pulling at him. Steve grunted and ripped his arms free and threw another punch. The man took it, seemed more concerned than anything else, and Steve had to clench a curse back behind his teeth. He kicked a leg out, tried to swipe the man's feet from under him, but he dodged Steve easily enough, his hands raised placatingly, his words little more than buzzing in his ears. "He's going to _kill_ you, I'm not kidding, Thor—" the other man shouted again, throwing himself between the two of them, spreading his purple-clad arms out wide and trying to put some distance between the two of them. 

Honestly? That pissed Steve off more than anything.

"Get out," he hissed, and he could barely recognize his own voice, but he strode forward and grabbed him ( _Tony, Tony, Tony_ —), pressing him tight to his sweating, heaving chest. He bared his teeth at the man in front of him. "You can't have him—"

Tony was on the phone. There was a garbled, buzzing noise coming through the cell phone that Steve should really have been able to understand, but everything was so… so fuzzy, and not right, and Steve could barely tell which way was up, let alone what someone was saying eighteen inches away in a tiny electronic device.

"—rvis, thank you. And could you be a dear and bring me my pills?" Tony asked, and there was a soft, soothing touch in his hair. Oh, Tony was petting him. Normally, Steve would be irritated, would be throwing a fit over the intimacy, the— the _softness_ of such an act (by Tony Stark, no less), but right now it felt like everything Steve wanted, and he couldn't help the low rumble that rose up in the back of his throat. "Oh, he's up," Tony murmured with obvious cheer in his voice; he scratched his fingers at the nape of Steve's neck, and Steve moaned, almost embarrassing in its intensity, but mostly all Steve could focus on was how _good_ it felt. "No, no, darling, just leave it at the door and text me after. You saw what Steve did to Thor when I answered the door in my robe, didn't you? _Thor_!" Tony giggled, but there was a tension in his body that Steve hadn't felt before. "No, it's best just to limit human contact for now, just in case. Thank you, Jarvis."

Really, Steve should ask what the _hell_ he did to Thor, but what came out of his mouth was: "You know his name's not actually Jarvis, right?"

Tony snorted, took a sip of some bubbly concoction sitting on the bedside table. "Honey, I'm a genius, remember?" When he turned to Steve, Steve gasped, one hand darting up before he could stop himself, pressing ever so gently to the giant bruise on the side of Tony's face.

"What happened?" Steve grumbled; he could feel the frown on his face before he was even conscious of making it. Guilt, simmering like nausea in his belly, swam up into him. "Did I— d-did I—?" _Did I do that?_

"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay," Tony soothed, running his hand through Steve's hair. "You've got a little bit of super strength there, tiger. You just fucked my face for a good long while, yeah? Poor thing was bound to bruise sooner or later." He leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Steve's hair. "You stopped when I started getting sore."

Like that was supposed to make Steve feel _better_.

Tony smiled and rolled over, sliding down over the length of Steve's apparently naked and very _hard_ body. He bent forward so he could catch a nipple between his teeth. Steve gasped, unconsciously arching up at the touch. "Like that?" Tony whispered, humming brightly around the small pink nub. He bit down again, then sucked on it, hard. "I'm learning all sorts of things about you, Cap."

It was a little different, Steve could tell, even without really knowing the concrete details. He could take in the details of Tony's face as he beamed down at Steve, lubed up his thighs, guided Steve's cock through the slick, tight heat of them. "He was my butler," Tony murmured some time later, so soft Steve could barely hear it. "He raised me. I never got to say goodbye, you know? So why should I have to?" He reached down between them to stroke Steve's dick and everything turned dizzyingly hot and hazy. "I'm dying anyway, so if I want to spend my last months pretending that Jarvis is still alive, then I damn well will."

"T—" Steve's tongue was thick in his mouth, like it was stuck in syrup, sweet and slick. "Tony—" This, this was something they should talk about, this wasn't something Steve should just let slide—

"I'm sorry, darling, I didn't mean to get all maudlin," Tony whispered, brushing his lips to his cheek. "You're not going to remember much of this anyway, so don't you worry, Cap, okay?"

_But I want to remember_ , Steve thought desperately. Before he could voice it, the _snick_ of the lube cap echoed loudly in the room around them, and Steve watched with wide eyes as Tony reached a shiny, wet, dripping hand behind him. There was something he'd wanted to say to Tony, certainly, but now all he could focus on was the slick wet sounds of— of Tony— _oh God_ —

"You don't mind, do you, darling?" Tony purred, and Steve could see every shiver and twitch and jerk of his body. "My jaw's still a little sore, but I— ah, I figure this wouldn't be a bad c-consolation prize?"

_God_. How could he not know? How could Tony _not know_ —?

"Can I—?" Steve blurted, immediately horrified, but couldn't make himself take the words back, even after his face and neck flushed humiliatingly red. Tony paused, his eyes widening as he looked back up at Steve, his jaw dropping a little. His hand reappeared, the digits slick and dripping, and Steve groaned aloud. "Please," Steve begged, and suddenly he didn't care how desperate, and-and-and weak he sounded. He needed to— he needed to— "Please, I want to," Steve whispered.

"Okay," Tony said simply, reaching out to drop the bottle of lube in Steve's hand, to curl Steve's fingers proprietarily around the clear plastic. He shifted backwards, his legs splaying, and Steve zeroed in on the bob of Tony's half-hard cock against his thigh. Tony shifted, moved to turn over on his stomach, and Steve reached out a hand, settled it gently over the curve of Tony's hip. "O-oh," Tony murmured, a gentle blush slipping over his cheekbones. "I thought—?"

"I want to see you," Steve whispered roughly, rolling Tony back onto his back and settling over him, spreading Tony's legs wide around him. Tony's flush deepened, and Steve felt something dark and hot and possessive well up in him. He felt like he was shaking all over, but his hands were so steady and he drizzled the lubricant over his fingers, slid his wet, dripping hand over Tony's balls, back to the soft pucker of his entrance. Tony jolted upwards, like he'd been electrocuted, and Steve jerked his hand away. "Is it—? Did I hurt you?" Steve asked, starting to scoot away.

"No, no, no," Tony promised, his legs coming up and wrapping around Steve's ass and thighs. He reached out and clasped Steve's hand in his own, and Tony actually _was_ shaking. "No, no—I, it's—ah, it's good," Tony murmured, his voice catching, letting his legs slowly relax back down to the bed. "I'm infuriatingly sensitive," he whispered then, like it was shameful, his face a beautiful shade of plum and cream and coffee, his lips pulled into a frown behind his beard and mustache. "But I— ah, it didn't hurt. I liked it. Maybe too much," he admitted, ducking his face into his shoulder.

There was something he needed to talk to Tony about. This was— this was something he should say to him, Steve thought very deliberately. "Not a bad thing," Steve whispered, brushing his knuckles to the back of Tony's face, gentle against his jaw and bruise, and then he reached back down and dipped a finger in, quick but not hard, just too fast for Tony to overthink it or tense up. Tony made a noise that made Steve's cock perk up in interest, and he rolled his head back.

Tony was so hot inside, slick and velvety smooth, and Steve couldn't resist the growl that slipped from his lips as he slid that finger deeper inside, marvelling at the way his body clung to him like a vice. Steve rubbed his finger along the inside of that wet velvety heat and Tony gasped, a tiny " _Ah_ " punching out of him, his hands fisting in the sheets on either side of him. Steve hummed, kept up that gentle, steady pressure, even as his cock throbbed and twitched with every breathy moan Tony gave him. When Steve slipped a second finger in, so slick with lube it dripped on the bed beneath them, Tony keened, dug his heels into the bed and hitched his hips onto Steve's fingers almost desperately.

" _Steve_ ," Tony gasped. "Darling, please, you're going to kill me, just— get inside me—"

"'V'e, never done this before," Steve said brusquely, but he did spread his fingers ever so slightly, groaned at the sight of Tony's ass stretching around him, even as Tony's insides clung to him so tightly. Lube squelched wetly, loudly between his fingers, the most intimate part of Tony's body, so sweetly opening up for him. "'M not gonna hurt you just to get my dick in you a lit'le quicker." Tony moaned below him, almost a shout, and he whined and panted and shuddered underneath Steve, his cock finally hard and flushed and pearling with precome between them. "Fellas aren't s'pposed to be pretty," he murmured, dipping his ring finger into the lube on the sheets and adding it to the two already inside him, "but hell, hell Tony, I've almost never seen someone so pretty." Tony sobbed, jerked underneath Steve, and Steve rubbed soothingly at him, inside and out.

And he _was_ , was the damndest thing: Tony's cockhead, flushed and dark and red, like sweet cherries, bobbed and twitched above his neatly groomed hair that would've got him called a sissy back in his time (Well, maybe not for the hair, and maybe not _only_ Tony, Steve thought with some chagrin), the way the all-over body flush warmed his olive-toned skin to a healthy warm-brown hue. Tony responded so sweetly, alternating between clenching tight and opening up to him, the soft, persistent drag of his knuckles over Tony's insides.

When Steve could stretch his fingers comfortably without feeling Tony's body clench immediately after, Steve moved for the lube again, his gut twisting hot and tight at the small sound Tony made when his fingers slipped out. "Shhh," he soothed, one hand sliding possessively over Tony's stomach, just barely missing his flushed, messy cockhead. His own cock was on fire, the now-familiar ache starting to build up in his belly; the whole damn thing was about to start again, and Steve bit back a curse at the tell-tale trembling he could feel spreading through his limbs.

"D-do you want me to get a condom?" Tony asked, his eyes wide and dark up at Steve. "I mean, I'm— I'm clean, but I know you're immune to, well, to almost anything, we've learned," he murmured with a quirking half-grin, garnering a wry huff of a laugh from Steve, "and I mean some guys prefer less mess, so."

 

Steve frowned. "Do you want me to wear one?" That was why he'd asked, right? Did Tony prefer less of a mess? Was that why he was bringing it up?

"I— I usually insist, but…" Tony bit his lip, and full-body shudder racked its way down Tony's spine, all the way to his toes. "I don't— I don't mind if you don't," he whispered, almost shyly, his eyes fluttering down and off to the side. "It's your show here, cowboy."

Steve hummed in consideration. If they were going to be here for awhile (God, how long had they been here already? Hours? A day? More than that?) it would be best for Tony if they used condoms (even… even if forgoing them meant it left him wet, and sloppy, and _dripping_ -); however, if Steve was being honest with himself, he— he _liked_ the idea of being bare inside Tony, so shockingly intimate, in a way he rarely was, with anyone. The feel of Tony's body clinging to his fingers was a heaven in and of itself, but how much better would it feel like around his cock? With no barriers between them?

It was… it was selfish, Steve knew, to be thinking like this, thinking of him and Tony closer than Steve had ever been with another man, hoping- hoping maybe closer than Tony had been with another man, too? He said he usually insisted, so... did that mean...? Sitting here and thinking about it, it was like a dam bursting on all his perfectly-controlled restraint, and he could feel the hazy rage of the drug tickling at his consciousness once more.

Steve shuddered; he didn't think he'd be able to say it out loud, but— but maybe if he showed him, Tony would understand anyway. He grabbed the bottle of lubricant again, squeezed a liberal amount onto his palm, slicked the cool gel across his aching, burning cock. Steve gasped, and he thought he might have heard Tony gasp with him. When he leaned forward, looming over Tony, one hand on the bed and the other on his dick, he had to hold back a whimper, had to bite back the urge to just shove his dick into Tony and go to fucking town. "D-don't," he panted, loud in the empty room around them. "Don't let me hurt you."

Tony's eyes widened, so bright and blue and beautiful, and then his lashes were fluttering shut, his hips rolling back. The soft opening of his rim caught on Steve's cock, and he choked, fire burning in his lungs and his veins, then the head popped in, and Steve was gone, he was so very very _gone_. He whined, or he might have yelped, both hands falling to the bed so he could dig his knees in and rock his hips into the tight, hot heaven of Tony.

" _Oh_ —" Steve heard him say, so very clearly, and Steve was horrified, even as his hips started fucking faster and faster, the wet sounds of their bodies meeting echoing around them, so— so lewd, and loud, and perfect.

_Did I hurt him?_ Steve thought desperately, fisting a hand in Tony's hair and pulling his head back. _Did I hurt you?_ His cock still hurt, but here, in the heat of Tony's body, his orgasm building up in his gut and his balls, it seemed almost bearable. _I could pull out if I had to_ , Steve thought, blinking away a rush of humiliating tears. _I could stop if I was hurting him_.

Tony moaned, opened his mouth around the curve of a word. _L—_ , Steve thought he could make out, but then Tony was lifting his hips again, reaching out and holding on and clinging to Steve as if _he_ was the one in danger of leaving.

"Don't stop," Tony moaned, sobbed almost, pressing his hot, slippery with sweat forehead to Steve's collarbone. "Don't stop, _please_ -" Steve's hips jerked, and he hit that sweet spot inside of Tony, who jolted underneath him and dug his fingernails into the meat of Steve's back. Tony breath hitched on a whine, and Steve felt the most glorious pressure clenching around his cock, working him from the inside out. "Steve-" Tony gasped, and Steve had to drop to his elbows so he could kiss him, so he could grab at Tony's thighs and wrap them around his waist and drive his dick in deep and hard and long and feel every microscopic twitch that Tony gave as he rolled his hips and fucked him harder and deeper. Maybe Tony would leave marks on him, Steve thought with a shiver, angry red fingernail marks that Steve could look at in the mirror after and remember what it felt like to be so deep inside him he wasn't sure where he ended and Tony began. Maybe they'd-

Steve came, and felt the blissful dark rush up to claim him.

* * *

They'd officially passed the forty-eight-hour mark.

Not that forty-eight hours was really the be-all end-all of the scientific community or anything like that; Tony was just impressed a single human being could keep _fucking_ someone for two days straight, super soldier serum or not.

"A-ah," Tony slurred, jolting under another hard thrust. His ass squelched, the barely-there suction of his rim catching at Steve's dick before releasing with a wet, lewd noise. His whole body felt soft, and full, and God, every time he so much as moved without Steve there to plug him up, he leaked _come_ , everywhere, all over the place. Tony was sure he smelled awful. His phone chimed on the bedside table, and then a knock sounded at the door. Steve growled, low in his throat, and wrapped his arms tighter around Tony's middle, the sounds of their sex filling the air in wet, squelching staccato. "S-Steve," Tony moaned, reaching back to smack at Steve's shoulder. "Steve, c'mon, we need to check your blood."

"D'n'wanna," Steve grunted, and leaned forward to suck a purple bruise on the back of Tony's neck. "Stay here." There was a shift in the air, almost, and then Steve was sighing and rolling his forehead against him. "You feel so good," Steve murmured, mouthing at the stinging, swollen hickey on Tony's spine. "Like your body just wants to suck me in." He thrust again, and Tony gasped, felt hot all over (and not just from the sweat pooling in his useless, trembling limbs). His knees dug into the bed, and then Tony was being lifted up into the air, pressed right up against Steve's front.

" _Steve_ ," Tony gasped, scrabbling for purchase but not quite finding any leverage, Steve's arm wrapped tight around Tony's middle and his dick rolling against his prostate over and over again. Steve rumbled out a laugh, rough and sex-low, and Tony choked on a moan when he reached down and palmed at Tony's cock, stiff and leaking against his belly.

"You're so hard," Steve murmured, lips hot and wet against his ear. "You're so wet, Stark. Have you come at all?" His hand slid down, massaged lightly at Tony's tight, sensitive sack. Tony jerked, bit back a yelp as Steve tugged ever so gently at his balls, slid his fingers up Tony's sticky, wet shaft. "Even once?"

"M-mm-mm," Tony hummed, shaking his head wildly from side to side. Steve fingered his balls again, and Tony gasped and writhed in his grip. "C-came close once or twice. My refractory period isn't yours, y'know? Didn't really see the point." 

"You've been so good for me, Tony," Steve murmured hotly, let his palm rub in firm, slow circles against his sack. Tony moaned and sucked his lower lip between his teeth as Steve kept at it, that soft, sensual pressure on his balls and his cock. "'Kept me from punchin' through the walls," Steve continued, jacking at his shaft, circling the head of Tony's cock, pressing his fingers into his hot, leaking slit. "'Kept me feelin' so good. I want you to feel good, too, Tony. Don't you wanna come?"

Tony whimpered, tried to squirm in Steve's grip. His mouth felt wet, and slack, like he'd been drooling into his beard. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, hard, in an attempt to keep himself from making an even bigger mess of himself. "I-I-It's not necessary, big guy," Tony whispered, tried not to tremble too obviously as Steve started grinding in against his sweet spot again.

"I _want_ you to," Steve growled, dragging his fist agonizingly slow up and down Tony's cock. "I want you to come, Tony."

Tony jerked, and whined, and honestly almost shot his load off right then and there. He sobbed, loud in the back of his throat, and grabbed at Steve with both hands and held on tight. "T-tell you what, handsome," he stuttered. "I'll come if you take a shower and l-let me check your blood." Steve's fist squeezed over the head of Tony's cock and Tony whimpered, his thighs shaking with the effort not to come straight away. If- if he could just get some calories in Steve, and a shower (God, Tony would kill for a shower right now), he could change the sheets and clean himself up and maybe- God, maybe he could even take a nap before Steve needed to fuck him again—

"I've got a plug in my bag," Tony blurted, face flushing hot at the admission. "You can— you can put it in me before you shower."

Steve's hips slowed to a slow, sensuous grind, as if he needed that extra energy to concentrate. "Deal," he said, then bit down on Tony's neck, his hand twisting and squeezing over Tony's red, aching cock. Tony moaned out loud, and his gut twisted with heat at the sharp sting of teeth in his skin, the tight clench of Steve's fist on his dick. Steve's other hand, the one that had been holding him across his stomach, slid down past his cock and his balls, right over his perineum. He ground two fingers in hard, almost painfully so, and Tony sobbed and felt himself come, felt it spurt out his hot, angry dick and splash up his stomach, over Steve's fist and wrist. Steve groaned along with him, moaned and jerked when Tony's body clenched up tight around him, and then he was coming too, spurting hot and heavy again into Tony's wet, sloppy, leaking asshole. Gently, like Tony was made of spun glass, he lowered them back down to the bed, rolling them onto their sides so Steve wasn't crushing him.

"Mmm," Steve rumbled, cock lazily sliding in and out of Tony's ass. Tony felt another gush of come splash his insides, and he shuddered, shuddered again when he felt Steve reach down and drag Tony's duffel bag onto the bed. Tony could tell when he found it, the way Steve's body went still all at once before he whispered hotly in Tony's ear, "S' that so?"

Tony's entire body felt hot. He— he knew it was embarrassing, the big, heavy, bedazzled plug he bought on a whim. He didn't use it on himself all too often (really only used it when he was feeling particularly cock-hungry, when his body was aching and throbbing and not even his pills or booze could help); it was heavy, unforgiving steel that Tony needed to be in a particular mood for, and— well, Tony knew the jewel on the base of it probably revealed more about Tony than he was comfortable with but—

"It's—" Tony's voice broke, and he shivered, shuddering as Steve thrust one last time in his oversensitive body before slowly pulling out, his cock leaving Tony's ass in one slow, sucking _squelch_. Tony flushed. "Yeah," he admitted, self-consciously. He knew what Steve probably saw when he looked at the damned plug, but- but he hoped that maybe Steve was too out of it to read too much into it, wouldn't call him out on his silly, stupid, insignificant crush, would just plug him up and go shower so Tony could change the sheets and take a fucking drink so he didn't have to think about his goddamn feelings.

Steve hummed, and it was a low sound, something dark and proprietary that left Tony trembling for an altogether different reason. He rolled Tony over onto his front, brushed soft, sensuous kisses down the length of his spine. When he grabbed hold of one of Tony's cheeks so he could spread him wide, Tony whined, tried not to roll his hips into the mess of come on the sheets and his stomach. "Such a pretty hole," Steve murmured, thumbing at it and— and Tony could tell that he was watching the mess of come drip out of him. Tony shuddered, all the way down to his toes. "S' gonna look even prettier with my shield in it," Steve whispered hotly.

There it was. Tony heaved a hot, shuddering breath out, buried his face in his arms as he felt that self-conscious jittering heat wash over him, felt the way his ass spasmed and clenched over Steve's thumb and tried not to groan too loudly when Steve tugged on the loose ( _too loose_ —) ring of muscle and pressed the tip of the plug in it. "Like this?" Steve asked, and the bastard sounded amused, almost, even though there was no way he'd ever used a goddamned anal plug before—

"G-go slowly," Tony breathed out, shuddering, and there was the balm of cool lube slipping over his hole before Steve started gently working the plug into him. Tony gasped, and writhed underneath him, but Steve just clamped his free hand to Tony's hip and held him still, murmuring soft little soothing noises as he slid the plug in and in and Tony felt his body stretch to accommodate it (God, it had to be almost as big as Steve himself, what if it wasn't big enough, what if his body wasn't tight enough to clamp down on it and all the come came slipping back out-). 

"You got this," Steve told him, then Tony could really feel the stretch of what had to be the widest part of the plug ( _Please be the widest part of it_ , Tony thought hysterically), the tip of it grazing, _stabbing_ along his prostate, and then it slipped in all at once, and Tony could feel his body closing in around the plug, felt the jeweled base of it snug against hole as Steve pressed his hand over it, pushing it bruisingly, punishingly hard against his sweet spot again. "There we go," he murmured hotly. "It's all inside you now."

"Oh God," Tony gasped, and he was certainly drooling now. He grit his teeth and moaned, tried to suck the spit back in through his teeth, but he could feel his beard, his chin all wet with it anyway. "S-shower and a blood test," Tony said, though he wasn't sure he'd be able to make it to the door to get the modified glucose meter Jan had rigged up for them. If he were being honest with himself, a nap sounded like a hell of a good idea at the moment.

Tony was about to just say fuck it and roll back over when there were big, strong arms wrapping around him, and Steve was lifting Tony in the air, shifting the plug agonizingly inside of him. Steve shushed him, pet a hand through his stringy, sweat-damp hair. "Can you stand?" he asked.

"What?" Tony asked, dumbly. 

Steve smiled then, something rare and precious and beautiful, and it clenched the quiet, secret, squishy parts of Tony to see it. He ruffled a hand through Tony's hair, helping him to stand up and lean against the wall so he could move to strip the sheets.

"What?" Tony asked again.

Steve tossed the filthy, soiled sheets to the corner of the room and grabbed a clean set from the closet. "You wanted clean sheets, right?" Steve said, stretching the fitted cotton over the mattress and tossing a clean blanket on top. "Come on."

"Wh—" Tony shook his head, tried to understand what was happening. Steve's cock, though not completely soft, was still bobbing half-hard out in front of him, glistening with come, and other fluids.

"Don't think I don't understand what you're doin' for me here, Stark," Steve murmured, reaching out and knocking their foreheads together. Something in Tony's breath hitched, and his throat tightened up with some nasty emotion that made him itch for a drink. "M' feelin' okay right now, so let me help 'ya out while I'm all here."

In the bathroom, Steve set Tony down on the edge of the tub with a towel and bottle of water, then hopped into the shower stall, scrubbing himself down with the speed and efficiency only someone who had been in the army was capable of. "Do you want a shower or a bath?" Steve asked once he was done, seemingly unconcerned with the fact that he was dripping all over the tile, standing there in the harsh unforgiving fluorescent lighting and still unbelievably, gorgeously nude.

Really, a shower was the best option, but Tony didn't think he had the energy to pull the plug out of his ass, let alone shower and shave and clean all the funk off of him. Tony's lips twisted. "Do you mind running the bath for me?" he asked, taking a long swallow from his water bottle and trying not to shift too noticeably. It didn't matter how he sat, how he shifted or moved his ass; the hot, bruising weight of the plug moved with him. Tony suppressed a shudder. Maybe he could get away with not shaving until this whole thing blew over.

Steve nodded, brushing one huge, hot hand across the span of his shoulders as he reached past him to twist on the taps. "C'mon, let's get you in," he murmured, pressed his hand firm against Tony's back to brace him. When Tony slid in, his breath hitched, the weight of the plug sliding more fully, more directly against his prostate. "Want me to take it out for you?" Steve asked, innocently enough, but the half-hard cock in Tony's face said otherwise. When Tony reached for it, however, Steve snorted and shook his head, pushed Tony's hands back into the hot, soothing warmth of the tub. "I wanna focus on you for a little bit," he admitted, a bit gruffly, but his hand was still soft when it smoothed gingerly down his flank.

"Fair enough," Tony whispered, and let himself sink into the bath. He turned onto his side, the water swirling gently with him. "Could you help me out with this then, darling?" he asked over his shoulder, let his lashes flutter shut under the warmth and exhaustion weighing on him. 

Steve let out a low breath, and nodded, leaning forward so he could reach down into the water. His fingers brushed the base of the plug and Tony gasped, hips twitching minutely before he stilled and spread his legs apart. His body was still soft, and pliant beneath Steve's fingers, and there might have been a groan out of one or both of their mouths as Steve slowly worked the plug out of Tony's body. When the tip of it finally slid out, Tony sighed, softly, let his head tip against the edge of the tub. Even that, just sitting in a bathtub with his soft, fucked-out asshole, was enough to have Tony panting for breath, anxious to close his eyes and just… sleep, for a minute or two.

"Give me a minute, darling," Tony murmured, slipped further down into the water. "I'll be out in a second."

"I can go get whatever's at the door?" Steve asked, moving to stand.

"Mm," Tony hummed. "That sounds great, thank you dear." Oh, but wait. Steve was at the bathroom door already, but Tony managed to sit up, water splashing up against the edges of the tub. "Oh, wait— Steve, dear, the door's locked. To my biometrics." Steve stopped in the doorway, turning back to Tony with a frankly adorable frown of confusion on his face, and— God, even now with Tony on the verge of passing out in his own filthy bathwater he looked absolutely delicious. Tony smiled, a wry quirk of a thing, and shrugged self-consciously. "You ah," he continued, clearing his throat, "you attacked Thor, darling, when he came to bring us something to eat. Very viciously, I might add, so we thought it might be best if we limited contact with anyone else for the time being."

Steve's jaw dropped, a soft, rosy flush blooming over his cheeks. "I'm— Hell," he grunted, crossing his arms and leaning back against the door jamb. Steve was a beast of a man, but he looked almost small there, hunched over and looking increasingly like he wanted to either throw up or punch something. "Hell, I'm so sorry, Tony. And— and Thor, I should apologize to him, too."

"Hey, hey, hey it's okay," Tony soothed and moved to stand, even though his legs still felt like jelly. Steve was beside him in a heartbeat though, pushing him back into the tub with a gentle hand. Tony still grabbed onto Steve's wrist, thumb rubbing against the soft skin of him. "Hey, Steve. Darling. No one blames you, okay? None of this is your fault, sweetheart."

"And if I'd killed him?" Steve asked seriously, but he was watching the play of Tony's fingers on his wrist. "Would it still not be my fault?"

"Well, we're not going to let that happen, darling," Tony murmured, and brought his knuckles to his lips for a kiss. "You could, um— could you get my duffel for me?" 

"Sure," Steve said, and was out the door. "The whole bag, or—?"

"There's a— ah," Tony called back, unsure, suddenly why he felt so embarrassed. "There's a— a hose in the bag."

"You mean the enema hose?" Steve asked, back in front of him again, and— Jesus, it was unnerving, sometimes, or unexpected, Tony thought, how fast he could move. It made sense, obviously (super soldier, and all that), but here, with naked and soft with Tony, it was easy to forget that Steve was actually a force to be reckoned with, and how- how fortunate it was that with all the power coiled in his bones, he still touched Tony so gently.

"Yeah," Tony whispered hoarsely, pulling on a smile. "I'm surprised you know what it is."

"Was' a sick kid," Steve said with a shrug, spinning the attachment onto the hose. "This was pretty much the cure to everything back in the '30s. You wanna stay in the tub for this?"

"Oh." Now Tony was the one flushing. "You don't have to do this—"

The corner of Steve's mouth twitched up in a smile. "S' not a bother," he murmured, running some soapy water through the tip of the hose and reaching for the petroleum jelly. "Wouldn't do it if it was." Steve pulled the plug on the tub, let a little bit of the water empty out. "S'ok if I…?"

Something hot and squirmy rolled in Tony's belly. He nodded, flushing a bit further, and turned on his side, pulled his knees up, let himself relax again. "M' all yours, handsome," he whispered, and then Steve's hand was on his tailbone, and the tip of the enema pipe was gently easing in. His body was still soft and loose, and Steve obviously knew it he was doing, because there wasn't even a pinch or any awkward movements from the soft silicone - just one quick, easy slide. This, Tony was very familiar with.

"Warm water?" Steve asked, and Tony hummed because yeah, that sounded wonderful. Steve twisted the taps, ran his hand under the gently running water, and when it was the right temperature he spun the attachment onto the faucet and released the clamp holding the end of the hose shut. Tony gasped, and then hummed softly when the warm water started sliding inside him. He'd felt so stuffed, and wet and messy for so long, that even the first tricklings of water in his ass was enough to make him feel clean again. Tony shifted, felt his insides start to warm, and relaxed into it with a smile.

The sensation of movement inside him, sliding hot and soft in his belly, had him sighing, and before long Tony felt like he was full of it to bursting. This wasn't his first rodeo; Tony gave himself enemas fairly regularly (for reasons both sexual and medical), but it still surprised him every time he saw the muscles in his abdomen softening, how everything just sort of… ballooned up under the pressure. He could feel it now, well up into his stomach, the strain and mild cramping, the slight urgency in his lower belly, and Tony felt himself whimper, just a hair. Even then, it was another minute or so before Steve finally turned the tap off, and then he was running his fingertips through Tony's sweat- and water-damp hair.

"Yeah, you're a trooper, aint'cha Stark?" Steve murmured, and it sounded almost _fond_. Tony whimpered again, shifted a little on his hip, and Steve scratched at the base of his skull, hard enough that it felt absolutely divine to Tony's sore, migraine-infused body. Another cramp hit Tony and he groaned, ground his teeth through it, pushing his head more firmly into Steve's grip. Steve hummed, massaged at the tight muscles in Tony's neck, the base of his skull, tried to work out the knots of tension that seemed to be constantly worming their way in his spine.

_Countdown from three hundred, Stark_ , Tony told himself tightly. _This is the worst of it_.

Perhaps Steve sensed his discomfort, or maybe he was just remembering how tough it had been on his own body, but Steve's hands dropped down to his shoulders, kneading just this side of perfect. "Y'just gotta hold it in for a few minutes and then you can let it all out, yeah?" he said, knuckles making their way down to his lower back before clenching tight into his hips so he could give Tony's joints a little stretch.

Tony hummed, felt his eyes flutter shut, and the next time he felt Steve's hands they were in his hair, slick and slippery, and Tony could smell the spiciness of the shampoo Steve used all around him. It felt heavenly, to have Steve scrub at his skull, to feel his huge palm covering Tony's eyes so he could rinse the shampoo from his hair. Surprisingly enough there was conditioner next, some soft and delicate scent that had Tony slipping deeper and deeper into the soft hazy sweetness he was feeling. "Do you want to stay in the bath for this or go to the toilet?" Steve murmured, and it took a minute for Tony to hear it, to be able to lift his head up and blink gingerly up at Steve.

"Dealer's choice, my dear," Tony eventually sighed, and Steve was nodding, lifting Tony up into a sitting position and pulling the plug from the bottom of the tub. 

"Alright then," Steve said, petting down Tony's spine. "I'm going to take it out now. And you can just let it all out, alright?"

Tony hummed, happily, and the tip of the enema pipe slid out his ass easy as that. God, the sheer- _relief_ of it all rushing out of him, the leftover lube and come and whatever else might have been lurking in his colon. There was a bit of cramping (but there always was), a couple of embarrassing noises that should've had Tony stuttering out apologies, but Tony was so tired and just so... soft, at the moment that he could do little more than flush, and duck his head against his shoulder.

Steve made no mention of it, however, just kept petting his hair as the water and fluids made their way out of him. Tony whimpered, his abdomen clenching, and just sat on the edge of the tub while he emptied himself out. After a minute, the cramping subsided, and Tony could feel nothing but the cool air of the bathroom ghosting around his hole, and he collapsed against Steve with a groan. Maybe he could just nap, here, for a minute.

Steve, the tyrant, didn't seem content to let him snuggle. "Shower time, fella," he whispered, rubbing his thumb along the back of Tony's neck, and then he was helping a grumbling Tony to stand and make his way over to the shower.

Unlike for his own shower, Steve seemed content to linger, to scrub Tony from head to do with a soft, soapy washcloth. He was thorough, but gentle, in the way he washed Tony, how he sought out all the sore, tender spots on Tony and massaged into them with careful fingers. The scent of Steve, all around him in the hot, steaming shower, had him swaying, but Steve's grip never left him, and Tony somehow managed not to slip and brain himself on the slippery tiles. He didn't shave, but Steve pulled out a small modern trimmer and cleaned up the edges of his mustache and goatee, patted his face and body dry with a hot, fluffy towel he got from Tony-didn't-care-where.

"Calories," Tony murmured with a lazy hand wave in the direction of probably-a-cooler, and Steve snorted out a laugh and shoved a piece of his own protein bar in Tony's mouth, his thumb lingering on his lower lip afterwards.

Tony felt so good afterwards (so _clean_ and soft and comfortable) that he nearly forgot about the blood meter waiting outside the door for them. Someone (probably Jan or Thor, or maybe even not-Jarvis) had also left a thermos filled with that ridiculous calorie-shake that Steve drank sometimes, and another one filled with soup for Tony. "C'mon over here, handsome," Tony said sleepily, even as he was making his way back to the bed where Steve had his finger dutifully out for Tony to prick. "Shake first," he ordered, and sipped at his own warm soup while Steve chugged his calorie-laden beverage. "Okay." Tony clapped his hands together, inserted a test strip into the meter.

It took a lot longer than Tony expected for the meter to work, or maybe it was his own damn impatience at work, fingers tapping irritably on the wooden nightstand by the bed. "Shit," Tony breathed when he was able to see the readout. 

"That bad?" Steve asked, though he looked like he was already bracing himself for the worst. He looked— God, he looked miles better than he did earlier, but there was still a healthy flush covering his nipples, a sheen of sweat on his body from head to toe. His cock was harder than it had been in the shower, but it wasn't purple or hot or irritated yet. Steve looked all there. Maybe the readout didn't directly correlate to Steve's intoxication. 

"No, it's— it's not terrible," Tony murmured, even though it was a little. "The concentration of the drug in your blood _has_ gone down, but the percentage is still in the eighties." Two _days_ and it was still so high? God, how long was Steve going to have to deal with this? How much of Steve's life was this nasty drug going to eat up? Were the Ultimates _actually_ going to need to consider a more long-term solution? Was— was Tony going to have to need to call in a-a professional, because he wouldn't be able to help Steve through this? "I may need to up my game," Tony joked, trying for levity as he climbed into Steve's lap and looped his arms around him. Steve frowned up at him and Tony couldn't help the angry little prickle it sent up his spine. "What, darling? Am I that boring for you already?" he asked, a bit snidely, and Steve sighed, lifted his hands up and to either side of Tony's waist.

"Wh— what are you doing?" Tony asked, glaring poutily at Steve as he manhandled him onto his side beside Steve. "Wh— Steve, come on, you're hard again, I've seen it, I can feel it—"

"You're a fucking dipshit," Steve grumbled, spooning up behind him and wrapping his arms loosely around Tony's middle. "I want to sleep, Stark. My dick'll still be hard in an hour."

Raw and tender emotion welled up in Tony's chest. "But it's hurting you," he whispered softly, hands sliding up to clasp over Steve's. "You told me it was."

Steve sighed, his breath tickling the back of Tony's neck. "It does hurt," he admitted, "but I'd rather hurt for a little bit than not give you a break while I can."

"Steve," Tony whispered, choking on- something-

"Go to sleep, Tony," Steve replied, and buried his face in Tony's hair.

* * *

Tony gasped, blinking into the dim of the room. It was immediately apparent what had woken him: the lights were down, blankets pooled loosely around his waist. He was still exhausted, still sore, and there was a light sheen of sweat covering his lower half. But he could hear something behind him, soft and wet and slick, and when Tony rolled over, he could see Steve curled on his side facing away from him, his hand furiously stroking up and down his dick.

At least he was using lube this time.

"Steve," Tony croaked, his voice still rough from sleep. He sat up, a bit shakily, and reached out to lay a hand on Steve's arm. "Steve, hey - honey, c'mere." Steve sobbed, then shook his head, pressed his face hard into the mattress to hide his panting. Tony made a soft shushing noise and tugged on Steve's arm, tried to get him to roll over. "Steve," Tony said again, "darling, roll over, let me help you."

"Go back to sleep, Stark," Steve grunted, and he bit down on his lip hard, squeezed messily at the tip of his dick.

"Nuh-uh, not a chance handsome," Tony murmured, crawling over Steve's side so he could tuck a leg under Steve's hip. It was a testament to how out of it Steve was, how much pain he must have been in that he let Tony do that: let Tony wrap his knees around Steve's ribs and roll him onto his back. Steve's hand didn't stop, but it did slow, his flushed, tear-stricken face staring blearily up at Tony.

"Please," Steve hiccuped, gritting his teeth and trying not to buck too hard when Tony's fingers brushed his dick. "Just go back to _sleep_ , Stark." His free hand fisted in the sheets and he groaned out loud, ducked his face into his shoulder.

"Does it hurt, sweetheart?" Tony asked, quiet and gentle. He reached out and ran his fingers through Steve's hair, brushed his bangs back out of his sweaty face. "Steve, are you in pain?"

"It _hurts_ ," Steve admitted with another sob, his breath hitching slightly. "Tony, _yes_ , it hurts—"

"Don't worry then, my dear, I've got you," Tony whispered, lifting up on his knees and grabbing the base of Steve's cock from him. "I've got you darling, just let go, I've got you—" He sank down, probably more quickly then he should've, but there was lube on Steve's dick and his ass was still a little soft, so it was only minorly uncomfortable—not nearly as bad as what Steve had to be feeling. Tony rolled his hips, grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut and tried to work Steve's cock further into him.

"Tony, Jesus," Steve hissed, and Tony felt Steve's cock twitch inside him. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph—" And Tony could hear Steve reach blindly out, and the click of a cap, and then there was soft, slippery-cool lube being pushed up against his entrance. "You're gonna hurt yourself," Steve sobbed out, but he was pushing more lube up into Tony, slicking it against his cock, bucking his hips up in mindless, jagged jerks.

"It's okay, Steve," Tony soothed, working himself down, bending forward and collapsing onto his forearms. Tony knocked their foreheads together, rolled his face against Steve's. "I've got you, baby, it's okay, I've got you—" Steve surged forward and sealed their lips together, lube-slick hands wrapping tight around Tony's middle. He whimpered into the kiss, hips rolling up, fucking into Tony far slower than he needed to be. "Come on baby," Tony prodded, panting hot and against his lips. "C'mon, Steve— fuck me like you mean it sweetheart—"

Steve choked, moaning into Tony's mouth, then he dug his fingers in, flipped them over, and fucked him like he meant it.

* * *

Thirty-six percent.

They checked his blood every four hours. There'd been a sharp dip on the third day, but for the most part the drop in the drug's concentration was slow, and agonizingly steady. Tony sighed, pressed his forehead to his knees, grabbing his phone from the bedside table. Steve was actually sleeping for the moment, not dozing or unconscious from delirium or pain, so Tony let himself run a hand through the man's hair, smiling sweetly down at Steve as he thumbed open the lockscreen to call Not-Jarvis.

It took him a minute to answer, and Tony nearly cursed aloud when he noticed the time. "Good morning, darling, so sorry to wake you. Would you be a dear and push my chemo appointment back to Friday? I anticipate I'll be incapacitated for a few more days." He had a few more directives for Jarvis: make sure everything was still on track for the new treatment plan, when Steve's next thermos of calorie-fix would be delivered, things like that. Eventually, there was nothing left to talk about with his butler so Tony let him go with a sigh and a small frown. Lulls were never easy for Tony, he just... wanted to make time move quicker, wanted the drug to run through Steve's system faster, wished he'd at least thought to bring a damn book or tablet so he could actually work on something until Steve needed him again—

"Y're thinkin' too much," Steve mumbled, swiping out and dragging Tony down to snuggle beside him. "Y' need the sleep more than I do."

"Lies and falsehood," Tony snarked, letting himself be manhandled into the position of little spoon in front of Steve. "I think just the right amount."

"You have _never_ thought 'just the right amount'," Steve snorted, snuffling softly as he scooted forward and tried to mold their bodies together from head to toe. "Ya ever managed to shut off that big brain of yours, Stark? Even for a minute?"

"Are you insulting me?" Tony ribbed back. "I feel like I'm being insulted."

"Oh, I'm definitely insulting you," Steve murmured, his huge, hot hands sliding slowly down Tony's sides. Tony could feel Steve's cock, hot and hard and angry up against his backside, but aside from the soft hitch of his hips as Steve snuggled further in, he made no move to deal with it. "Now go back to sleep," he huffed and burrowed his nose in the crook of Tony's neck.

"Mm, let's take care of that first, darling," Tony purred; when he ground his hips backward, Steve snorted and smacked at the side of Tony's ass, and Tony felt a lash of liquid-hot pleasure shoot through him. Tony moaned, luxuriating in the ache of it, and then clapped a hand over his mouth in a belated attempt to stifle it.

Steve's hand froze on Tony's hip. He leaned in close, brushed his lips over the shell of Tony's ear. "Did you like that, Tony?" he murmured, dragging his tongue over the soft cartilage.

Tony shuddered. "Come now, darling— all this time we've spent together and you haven't figured out I like it when you rough me up?" he rasped, shivering under Steve's attentions. His mind was— was starting to feel soupy again, soft and unfocused and completely the opposite of what he needed right now.

Steve hummed consideringly. "Nah," he replied in a hot whisper, "Nah, you might like a bit—" Steve slid his hand back and slammed it forward into the fleshy part of Tony's ass; Tony gasped, choked on a hot, heady moan, "—a bit of a sting, but you like it when I'm soft with you, don't ya Stark?" Steve murmured, his huge palm cupping and rubbing at the throbbing bruise blooming under his skin. "You want me to treat you gently."

"That's—" Tony's teeth chattered, and he had to gulp back a whine. "Steve, honey, that's hardly salacious," he stuttered, arching his ass into the touch. Steve pinched him, a bit roughly, then dragged his lips down the back of Tony's neck, not particularly shy about how wet it was, how much tongue he used. Tony shuddered, felt his body tingling all over, like he'd just crushed and swallowed a Vicodin and chased it with gin. His body moved where Steve moved it, where Steve _wanted_ to move it, almost of its own accord, like it was anticipating Steve's needs and clamoring to shift where it could best serve Steve. 

"I've got your number now, Stark," Steve murmured, cock rubbing just under the curve of Tony's buttocks, slippery and wet from the copious amount of precome he was leaking. Fingers slipped between Tony's cheeks, tugging at the base of the plug nestled inside of him; Tony gasped. "Yeah, that's it," Steve praised, fingers falling off and returning slick and cool with lube, smearing between his cheeks, all around and inside the edge of Tony's rim. His body had clenched up tight around it, but Steve was patient, persistent, almost lackadaisical in the way he fingered lube inside of Tony, how he gently rocked and eased the plug out of his body. "Good boy," Steve hummed, and Tony felt the shock of that phrase all the way down to his toes, the way his body relaxed and loosened and his head rolled back into the crook of Steve's neck as he shook and panted.

"S-Steve," Tony stuttered. "Darling—"

"I've got you," Steve whispered hotly; the plug pulled free and was tossed to the side without a care as Steve grabbed his cock and fed it into the soft, wet heat of Tony's insides. Tony choked, gasped against the feel of it, pushing his face into the pillow. Steve hummed again, moaning softly as he fucked in and out of Tony, slow, unhurried, a barely-there rocking of his hips that had his cock rubbing insistently over Tony's prostate. "I've got you, sweetheart," Steve whispered, and reached over to fondle Tony's half-hard dick.

Tony moaned, bit down on the soft, cool fabric of the pillow and clenched his fingers in the sheets. He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry or scream — it was— it was too _tender_ , the way Steve was gently rolling his hips, the soft rocking of his hot, heavy cock against his insides. He could handle it when it was hurried and rough, when Steve was too out of it to have any real coherency, but this… this soft-spoken, sweet Steve that acted like he was making _love_ to Tony was going to send Tony off the deep end, he— he didn't know how to _handle it_ —

"Steve, p-please," Tony moaned, arching back into the soft thrusts. His throat felt tight and swollen, hotter with every swipe of Steve's thumb against his slit. "P-Please, I-I want—"

"What do you want?" Steve hummed, grabbing at Tony's leg with his free hand. He pulled it up, drawing Tony's knee to his chest almost, deepening the angle of his thrusts. Tony shouted, bucked back against it and sobbed into the sheets. His eyes ached, burned against the hot, shameful tears he felt welling up inside them. Tony rolled his hips back to meet Steve's, tried to clench his overworked asshole to make it feel good on Steve's cock. "What do you want, Tony?" Steve asked again, and sped up his hand, jacking Tony at an almost punishing pace.

_I want you to love me_ , Tony thought hysterically, biting on his tongue 'till he tasted blood and came, all over Steve's hand. Everything from his lips to his toes quickly became hypersensitive, bordering on painful, but Tony just kept rolling back against Steve, clenching down on every stroke so he could get Steve off. "I want— I want—" Tony choked wetly, those first few humiliating tears slipping down his cheeks and making him cough. "I want to be good for you," he finished miserably, the safest thing he could say with his legs still trembling and endorphins flooding through his central nervous system. Tony couldn't stop shivering — was sweating, but everywhere Steve wasn't touching him felt ice cold, and he alternated between crowding closer to and jerking away from Steve's touch. His face felt wet. "Please, please Steve, I just want to make it good for you—" Tony sobbed, clutching at Steve's hand and winding their fingers together. His skin was on fire. "Please, please— am I-I, am I good? Am I being good? For you?" Tony's brain was winding itself up more and more and he couldn't get it to shut off—

_Please, please, please, tell me— tell me—_ Tony thought desperately. _Oh god, do not hyperventilate right now, Stark—_

"Hey, hey, you're being plenty good, mister," Steve soothed, running a hand down his flank. "You are making it so good, I— Tony?" Tony sobbed again, his breath hitching as he buried his face into the sheets, but Steve just rolled Tony back over, his dick pulling out of Tony with a wet, sucking noise that had heat flooding his cheeks. "Tony? Are you crying?" Steve asked gently, some awful, hideous frown marring his perfect features.

"N-no," Tony hiccuped, and then covered his face with his hand so he could cry some more. They weren't even quiet, subtle tears — no, these were body-racking sobs, and a raw, aching throat, snot dripping from his nose into his mustache and goatee. _Jesus Christ_ , he was an embarrassment. "P-please, just— can we just finish, Steve?" Tony pleaded, sniffing and rubbing at his face with the back of his wrist. His body _hurt_ — a bone-deep ache that Tony felt from his shoulders all the way down to his feet. "Please, you still need—"

" _No_!" Steve shouted, his voice booming in the empty room, sitting up and dragging Tony with him. He brushed at a clump of tears on Tony's cheeks. "Tony, you're _crying_ and you want me to stick my dick back in you?" Steve asked angrily, giving him a little shake. "What's the matter with you?"

And that was the fucking kicker wasn't it? Tony shook his head, over and over, tried to reach down and wrap his fingers around Steve's dick, but it was soft, just lying there limply against his thigh and that just sent another rush of humiliation through Tony, another wave of tears to his eyes. _What the fuck is wrong with you_? Tony asked himself, sniffling and coughing and gasping wetly into his hands. _You can't even do this one thing right, Stark — the_ one thing _you're good at—_

"— _Tony_!" Steve yelled again, grabbing at his chin gently, so fucking _gently_ , and tilting his face up to meet his. "Tony," Steve said brokenly, and oh god, now Steve was crying too, he was so fucking _stupid_ — "Am I hurting you?" Steve asked, pressing both palms to Tony's cheeks, his thumbs rubbing soft circles against his temples. His hair was a mess and his eyes were red, and his skin had taken on that sweaty, ghost-like pallor that let Tony know he was in the middle of another rough wave of the stuff, but all he kept asking was—

"I'm taking _advantage_ of you," Tony wailed, trying to cry into his fists again, but Steve wouldn't let him, wouldn't let his face go and just pulled him forward until their heads were knocking together and Steve was rolling his forehead to Tony's and breathing each other's air. Tony fisted his trembling hands, pulled them into his lap and tried to get his breathing under control. "I-I _coerced_ you, I should've found someone you actually wanted—"

"You're a fucking _idiot_ ," Steve seethed, totally at odds with the soft way he was still bumping his face against Tony's. "Do you think I wanted anyone else in here with me? Do you think I want to have sex with _anyone else_?"

"You've been barely conscious for a week!" Tony spat back, shaking so hard his teeth chattered. "You've been in pain every waking second under the influence of some kind of mind-altering _sex drug_ , and you expect be to believe you can consent to _any of this_?"

"I'm _right here fucking consenting_ , you moron—"

"Steve, I checked your blood two hours ago, you can't consent—"

" _Don't tell me how I feel_!" Steve snarled, grabbing a fistful of Tony's hair and jerking his head back so he could take a look at Tony. His eyes were red and watery, but it didn't look like he'd burst into pitiful tears like Tony had, so that was something. Steve's jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together, and he let Tony's hair go so he could run his fingers through it. "This has been an awful week," Steve admitted, and _god_ , Tony was a _monster_ — "but it was _better_ because of you," Steve continued, brushing his lips to Tony's brow, pressing Tony's cheek against his shoulder. "You fucking idiot," Steve whispered, burying his face to Tony's hair. "I don't want anyone else but _you_."

Tony shuddered against Steve's skin, dangerously close to losing his shit again. He reached out, tightened his fingers into the meat of Steve's shoulder blades, and just… took a second, to gasp wetly against Steve's shoulder. "If— if you really m-mean that," Tony rasped, "tell me again when you're in the clear."

Steve was quiet for a moment, then nodded into Tony's hair. "I will," he promised, brushing a hand through the silky strands.

_Fat chance_ , Tony thought nastily, frowning at his own pathetic self-deprecation. The idea that— that Steve would feel this way, would say these things (would want _Tony_ ) once he was fully in control of all his mental faculties was just too much to imagine. Once this whole ordeal was over, Tony had no doubt that Steve would be on the first bus out of here, to say nothing of whether or not he'd even remain on the Ultimates. Tony shivered again, which sent a shiver down Steve's own spine, and roughly cleared his throat. "In the meantime," he mumbled, "we still have to take care of you."

"Yeah, uh," Steve was frowning, Tony could tell, from the tense of his shoulders to the tone of his voice, to the way his lips felt against Tony's head, "I don't think I'll be able to do that anytime soon." Despite his words and the softness of his dick, Steve's hips were still shifting, still rocking gently against the bed. Steve groaned raggedly, reached down to tug at his dick with sharp, rapid movements. "Maybe—" Steve's voice hitched, cracking along the word. "Maybe I can get it back up—" He kept at it for a minute, trying to coax some life back into it, but it stayed stubbornly half-hard between his legs. Steve's brows pinched. Tony wasn't sure if he should be flattered that Steve seemed to care that much about his comfort to be able to get his rocks off, or horrified that he'd traumatized Steve so severely that even an all-encompassing sex drug couldn't help him keep his erection.

"You giving your dick a rug burn is not going to help the situation," Tony said eventually, snuffling against his throat. He grabbed at Steve's hand and held it, just for a minute, to try and build up the courage to suggest what they could do next. "I may—" Tony coughed to clear his throat, "have something we can try."

"Yeah?" Steve asked.

Tony nodded. "How comfortable are you with anal, darling?" he murmured, fingertips sliding against the cleft of his ass. "I don't— don't have to fuck you, or anything, but a little bit of prostate stimulation works wonders, a-and it can be rather intense."

"Yeah?" Steve whispered again, his fingers finally slipping off his angry, raw-rubbed cock. He shuddered and let himself sway, almost, into Tony's arms. "Yeah," he murmured. "Yeah okay. Y' sure seem to like it when I do it to you," he finished with a giggle, goosebumps prickling all along his skin. He was sweating again. Steve must've been hitting the peak of the current up-swing. He panted raggedly against Tony's ear. "Tony, I d'n— I don' wanna _hurt you_ —"

"I'm not doing anything I don't want to do here, my love," Tony whispered gently, biting back another swell of emotion as he slicked his fingers up, slid them down to the tightly furled entrance of his body. "Now you just lie back and let me take care of you, baby, alright?"

At the first touch to his ass, Steve gasped, and Tony could feel him tense and relax all at once, how he let the tip of Tony's finger slide into him so, so easily. Steve let out a small noise, not quite a moan or a whine, but somewhere in between as he spread his legs and wrapped his arms tight around Tony's shoulder and neck. Tony circled his finger, up to the second knuckle now, and felt the gradual easing of his insides, the hot sucking clench of him. When Tony slipped a second finger in, Steve's voice hitched, and then a low, gravelly moan ripped out of his throat, his hips rolling in slow, undulating waves. His teeth chattered in Tony's ear.

"That feel good, tiger?" Tony murmured, sliding them deeper and deeper in. He crooked them up, rubbing insistently, and felt Steve jerk all around him.

"Y-y-yes-s," Steve stuttered, shivering and rolling his head against Tony's neck. He clung even tighter than before, his thick thigh and calf muscles flexing on either side of Tony's hips. "Oh, Tony, _yes_."

"There we go, darling," Tony soothed as he kept massaging Steve's hot, tender insides. "That's perfect."

Steve jerked again, his cock finally hardening up between them, messy and wet at the tip, and then he was combing Tony's hair back with his fingers, rolling his forehead affectionately under Tony's jaw. "Good," he breathed out, messily petting at the nape of Tony's neck. "Tha's so good Tony, thank you," Steve slurred, dropped a kiss to Tony's chin. "Good boy, Tony, thank you."

Tony gasped, almost fell off the bed, his fingers stabbing in too hard at Steve's prostate, but Steve just moaned again and started rubbing at Tony's shoulders, soft blurry praise falling from his lips.

"Just like that, _oh_ — please, harder," Steve begged; he mouthed at Tony's neck, his tongue darting out to lap at the salty tang of sweat on the tightly corded muscle there, letting his teeth just barely scrape the skin. "Can I— another? Another finger?" he asked, canting his hips back. He grunted, and Tony could feel him pull his shoulders a little straighter, tangled around Tony as he was. "Another," Steve ordered, and slid his hand down so he could urge a third finger inside of him.

"Jesus Christ," Tony moaned, felt the sharp curl of pleasure in his gut. He felt hard again ( _already_ ) and that was something of a goddamn miracle, between the alcoholism and pill popping and chemotherapy and the _fucking orgasm he'd had_ not fifteen minutes ago. Tony chanced a glance down, and yeah, sure enough, his dick was hard, the tip of his dick messy and wet, flushed a deep purple with blood.

Really, this entire week was an exercise in Tony's dick being harder than it had ever been, more _frequently_ than it had ever been, in his entire goddamn life, and he was tempted to test his own blood, see if maybe he'd gotten a second-hand high from all the sex he'd been having with his coked-up super soldier.

Steve moaned below him, and Tony's gaze shifted back, to the droplets of sweat clinging to his bangs, the fluttering of his lashes as he gasped unashamedly into Tony's fingers fucking into him, his hips circling as if he couldn't get enough of the feeling. _I love him_ , Tony thought suddenly, and his chest clenched, his eyes watering again, but he just sniffled and shook his head, bending forward to lave at the sweat pooling in his collarbone. If this— if this was all Tony was ever going to have, he was going to just— just have to savor it, and enjoy it as long as he could, as sick as it sounded. And maybe— maybe when it was all over Steve wouldn't hate him—

His throat ached again and Tony choked back his sob, turned his ministrations gentle and constant against Steve's prostate. He was close now, Tony could tell — from the tightening of his brows to the trembling in his legs, to the sweet rosy flush down his face and chest. God, he was beautiful. And, well… if this was going to be his last chance… "You're so beautiful," Tony whispered, and Steve's eyes snapped open as he came, spilling hot and heavy between them.

Tony felt like he'd barely finished shaking when Steve's legs cinched around his hips, rolled them over so that Steve was on top, Tony lying stunned underneath him. He sunk down on Tony all at once, his ass rippling like a vice around Tony's cock. Tony shouted, the sound catching in his throat and devolving into a moan, rough and rumbling deep in his chest. He was shaking again, trembling all around Steve, freezing where they weren't touching, but then Steve was digging his knees in and lifting up to fuck himself on Tony's dick and Tony forgot all about how cold he was for awhile.

It was tight, and verging on the edge of too dry, but Steve was bouncing on his dick like a goddamn champion, and when Tony slipped lube-slick fingers up to the crack of his ass, he paused long enough for Tony to feed it into him and all around his cock to soothe the burn Steve had to be feeling inside of him. On the next slide, Steve sighed, his head tipping back to show off the long line of his throat, and Tony had to reach out and just— grab onto him, his thumbs fitting into the notches of Steve's hip bones, fingertips curling around his heated skin. Steve groaned, rolling his hips in sharp, rapid snaps; when he came there was a mix of pleasure and pain on his face, and all Tony wanted to do was reach up and smooth the tension from his face, to hold Steve's face in his hands and press soft, loving kisses to his lips and make love to him the way Steve _really_ deserved.

Steve was still shuddering through his orgasm, come spurting across the both of them, his thighs quaking as he tried to keep up the pace. He gasped, shaking his head, whined into one of his fists. God, he had to be so sensitive from the two near back-to-back orgasms, but he was still fucking himself up and down on Tony's cock, his hips corkscrewing as he ground down until Tony nearly saw stars.

"My turn now," Tony rumbled, tipping them to the side so he was the one over Steve, fingers slipping down to rub at his perineum and milk the last vestiges of pleasure from his body as Steve shook and trembled beneath him.

Tony fell forward, braced his elbows on the bed so he could stroke Steve's cheeks and press a soft kiss to his lips. Steve hummed, letting his eyes slip shut as he kissed sloppily back, his mouth slack and soft against him. Tony's cock slipped back into Steve easily, and Steve moaned into Tony's mouth as he thrust in deep, and slow, letting his cock push and drag heavy along his prostate as he began to fuck him again.

" _God_ ," Steve gasped. "S-so good, Tony, that's so good— good boy." He reached out to stroke and touch Tony's face, spread his legs out wide so he could wrap them around Tony's hips again. "Tony, Tony," he murmured, petting Tony's cheeks. "Look at me." Tony's hips stuttered on the next thrust and he shuddered, eyes blinking blearily open so he could stare down at Steve's deep blue, soft and shining eyes. "You're so good, Tony," Steve told him, clenching down tight around Tony's cock. "Thank you for giving this to me—" Tony gasped, felt his raw, ugly emotions rearing their heads once more, but Steve kept his hands clasped on either side of Tony's face. "You're such a good boy," Steve moaned, and pressed a kiss to his lips. Steve came, sighing in relief almost, come dribbling out of his chafed, red, angry cock, and then he was mouthing gently at Tony's lips again. "Again," he begged, licking into Tony's mouth. "Again, please."

Tony shook, but kept his thrusts slow and shallow. "You're— you're not too sensitive?" Tony rasped, whining as Steve tried to suck on his tongue. "Steve you just came like three times, you usually need a break—" Steve shook his head, rocked them both with the force of it, and clenched down tight on Tony's cock. " _Fuck_ ," Tony hissed. " _Steve—_ "

"Come on, Tin Man," Steve whispered, knocking their foreheads gently together. "Show me what those dames are always raving about."

Tony bit back a whine, sucking his lower lip between his teeth; he grabbed at Steve's thighs, spread them even further apart and pushed them up to his chest. Tony let himself thrust a little faster then, let his core and hips get into it so he could give Steve a nice, hard, deep fuck, a fuck that would light him up inside, leave him feeling heady and filled to the brim. He wanted Steve to really feel it, to feel sore like he'd fought one on one with the Hulk, satisfied like he'd gone ten rounds with the special heavy bags Tony'd made for him, relieved like maybe Tony could actually fuck the drug out of him—

"Tony, Tony, Tony," Steve moaned, a constant mantra in his ear. He clutched at Tony's face, bumped their noses together, panted into Tony's mouth. "Oh, baby, that's so good," he whined, sucking at Tony's lower lip. His toes flexed against Tony's back, his legs starting to shake. "Oh, baby, just like that, please— Tony, oh good _boy_ —" He shuddered and came practically dry, clenching and spasming around Tony's hypersensitive dick and dragging his own orgasm out of him.

_If you cry again, Stark, I'm going to kick your ass to Timbuktu_ , Tony thought wildly, gritting his teeth against the heat in his eyes. Steve clenched around him again, and Tony moaned so loud it echoed in the room around them.

Steve looked up at Tony, starry-eyed and full of wonder, and he pressed another soft, gentle kiss to Tony's lips. He looked so— blissed, so serene, that Tony was tempted to check his blood right then and there, but lying there and doing nothing sounded way more appealing at the moment, so he just laid on top of Steve, panting roughly into his skin and trying to catch his breath as his cock slowly softened and slipped out of Steve's wet, loose asshole. Steve's own cock, thankfully, looked like it was calming down for the moment — the chafed skin looked like it was starting to heal already as it bobbed half-hard against his thigh.

_Maybe it's almost over_ , Tony thought to himself, petting through the sweat-soaked strands of Steve's hair. _Maybe he's almost back to normal and Steve doesn't have to pretend he cares and I won't— won't— won't have to _inflict_ myself on him anymore_—

"I love you," Steve murmured dreamily, and Tony fell to pieces in Steve's arms.

* * *

They let Steve out when his levels dropped below eighteen percent.

He was still feeling the effects, certainly, almost like he had the flu, but it wasn't the all-encompassing agony and frenzy he'd become accustomed to over the past eight days, and his symptoms could be easily managed on the treadmill instead of—

"—netrative sex for at least four to six weeks," Dr. Nguyen was saying behind the curtain. Steve felt ill. "The stitches should dissolve on their own in about ten days."

"Yes, well, this has been sufficiently mortifying," Tony said cheerily, followed by the sharp clink of glass. "If you'll excuse me, I have an appointment to get to."

"Please at least take the prescription I wrote you—" Nguyen started.

"Not to worry, darling, I have my own!" Tony called back, and Steve could hear his polished shoes clicking decisively on the tile floor. He knew his own doctor was still trying to talk to him, but he'd long ago tuned him out, waiting for even the barest glimpse of Tony. Even though he'd been watching, Steve still startled when Tony turned the corner, his heart rate ratcheting up at the sight of him. He looked…

Well, he looked _awful_. There were smudges of dark, heavy bruises under his eyes, as well as curling around past his shirt cuffs and collar. There'd been bruises all over his body earlier, Steve had seen, before they'd— before they'd gotten dressed, and Steve could only imagine how bad they must look now, huge finger-shaped marks of purple and deep, dark greens from his neck to his feet. And Tony still hadn't shaved, so his meticulous goatee had softened into a full beard, the unkempt edges curling around his lips and jaw. He had a tall glass of… something, in his hand, and Steve would bet dollars to donuts that Tony was more booze than blood at this point.

"If you'd just let me—" the doctor piped up, and Steve angrily waved him off.

"I don't need anything," Steve snapped. "Serum'll take care of any bruising in a few hours." Tony—

Tony smiled weakly at him, and the sight of it warping Tony's face into something… so _unpleasant_ nearly made Steve flinch back in his seat. "You should let the doctor take a look at you, Steve," Tony said gently, so gently it made Steve sick. "I pay a lot of good money to staff people who can handle the type of injuries you get."

Steve did flinch then, jerking his head to the side so he could stare at the wall a few inches from his doctor's face. "Fine," he grunted.

"If you'll excuse me," Tony whispered, and dashed out like his suit was on fire.

"—eep yourself hydrated," his idiot doctor continued. "Make sure you keep monitoring your vitals and come see me or Dr. Nguyen immediately if you feel like you're getting worse—"

"Fine," Steve said, standing and stalking out of the room. He needed— he needed to find Tony, and talk to him, make sure he understood how _awful_ Steve felt for hurting him, that he understood how Steve felt—

Tony wasn't in his workshop. He wasn't in the kitchen, or his room, or any of the labs or the hangar bay. When Steve tried to call Tony it went straight to voicemail, and Steve couldn't tell if Tony's phone was off or he was just ignoring Steve's calls. Steve passed by the parlor and he could hear Jan and Wanda laughing at something on the television, could smell the snacks they'd piled up beside them. Steve hadn't been out of his room in over a week, but honestly he wasn't sure if he could handle being around people right now. His skin itched, and felt like it was two sizes too small for his body. Steve could feel himself start to sweat.

Maybe a few rounds with the heavy bag would help calm him down.

* * *

Tony still hadn't answered his texts. 

It wasn't like Steve was worried. Steve knew if something were truly wrong with Tony that Jarvis or one of the others would tell him. They wouldn't keep Tony's health from him or anything like that. But…

Steve was _worried_. He hadn't seen Tony in almost nine hours, he knew for sure that he hadn't filled his prescriptions from Dr. Nguyen, or stopped by the kitchen to get something to eat, or even come out to see _Thor_. He just— he just wanted to make sure Tony was alright. He wanted to talk to Tony. He wanted to hold him and tell him he missed him.

He found Jarvis in the study.

"Hey, Jonathan—" Steve started; Not-Jarvis looked up from his dusting. Steve wondered what Jonathan thought of him, of how he'd fucked his boss bloody, how he'd sent Tony running from the room. "—You haven't seen Tony, have you?" he asked; Steve wanted to fidget so he fell into parade rest instead, dug his thumb into the meat of his palm.

"Mr. Stark is indisposed at the moment," Jonathan said, turning back to the shelf in front of him. "If you'd like, I can pass on a message."

"Uh…" Steve faltered, a frown twisting his lips. "No… no, that's alright, Jon, thanks. I'll just—" Steve pointed at the door behind them, already turning and stalking out. He focused on just breathing for a minute: in through the nose, out through his mouth, trying not to let his anger get the best of him.

He'd already done enough of that this week.

Steve was doing a loop of the second floor (his room was still being… steam-cleaned, so Steve had a few of his things in a guest room for the time being) when he passed by Tony's room and heard—

"Stark?" Steve called out, pressing a hand to the doorframe. Tony's room had a handprint scanner as opposed to the old-fashioned lock and key he'd given Steve's, but the light flashed green when he touched it, so he couldn't have locked Steve out. "Tony, are you in here?" he called again, popping his head in the door. Steve frowned, pulling out his phone and swiping through to call Tony.

Straight to voicemail.

Then Steve heard it again — a low, miserable whimper of pain, followed by the sound of someone being sick in the toilet. Steve was running to the bathroom before he was even aware his feet were moving. "Tony—?" Steve gasped, skidding on the tile.

Tony looked up from his lump on the floor. His eyes were watery and red-rimmed, made starker by the bruising under them, and the robe he was wearing was barely belted so Steve could see every slash of black and blue he'd put on the man. He was sweating and shaking, and Tony opened his mouth to say something to Steve, but turned at the last second so he could puke in the toilet. Tony's shoulders heaved as he pressed his face to the seat, spitting into the bowl and letting out a low, agonizing whine.

"Jesus," Steve breathed, collapsing to his knees and ever-so-carefully pressing a hand to Tony's backside. Tony shuddered, but didn't yell at him or shrug him off, so Steve began to rub gentle circles between his shoulder blades, like his mother had once done when he was a sick and weakly thing. "Is this—" Steve hesitated. "Is this because of…?"

Tony shook his head, barely. "Chemo," he rasped out, his voice jagged like he'd been gargling glass, and Holy God, it sounded even worse than it had after Tony had— Steve flushed, and pushed that thought to the side. Now was _not_ the time. Tony shivered again, made a face, spit into the toilet and looked like he was trying not to hurl again. "S'a new study. Twice the chemo, twice th' drugs," he slurred. "Tryin' t' see if they can beat the tumor outta' me."

"Hell," Steve swore, rubbing a bit more firmly on Tony's back. Tony sniffed, and wiped his face off on the cuff of his sleeve, and finally let his eyes flutter shut, a soft sound escaping his lips. 

"You don't have to be here for this, darling," Tony murmured some indescribable time later. "I'm well aware of the picture I make."

"Tony, yesterday I shot spunk up my own nose," Steve told him firmly, and Tony giggled half-heartedly into the porcelain. "I think it is safe to say that anything I could see here is not half as bad as that. Besides," he continued, petting through the sweat-slick hair at the nape of Tony's neck, "you just went above and beyond for me — how could I not do the same for you?"

"You don't have to be here because you feel _obligated_ , Rogers," Tony snapped, spitting viciously in the toilet.

"That's not what this is," Steve said, a bit harshly, squeezing the back of Tony's neck. Tony sniffed again, wrapping his arms more firmly around the toilet, and closed his eyes. "Hey, I'm being serious," Steve continued, trying to tamp back his temper before he went and made a mess of things. He ground his teeth together. "What, Tony Stark can be there for Steve Rogers, but no one can be there for Tony Stark, is that right?"

"I didn't _ask_ you to be here," Tony seethed, gritting his teeth against a sudden dry heave. "That's kind of the point of not returning a bunch of poorly-spelled text messages and turning off one's phone."

"You acting like an asshole isn't going to make me leave any faster," Steve grunted, finally moving to stretch out on the tile. "I know that's what you're trying to do." Honestly, Steve was furious, despite knowing that was exactly Tony's intentions. He hated being made to feel like an idiot, bumbling his way through the future with no clues on how to act or who expected what and Tony _knew that_ , was poking exactly at all the raw spots under Steve's armor in a concerted effort to make him leave Tony alone to puke his guts up in the bathroom. _Knowing_ that, however, didn't make Steve any less pissed, didn't make Steve want to go punch a hole through the wall any less. "Why are you so determined to believe that I don't want to be here, huh fella?" Steve asked gruffly, threading his fingers through the thick of Tony's curls.

"Why would you even _want_ to be here?" Tony asked desperately, screwing his eyes even tighter together. "Boo hoo, I have cancer, I'm going through chemo, I'm _dying_ as soon as this stupid tumor eats through the more delicious parts of my brain matter, so you sitting here trying to make me feel better is little more than you martyring yourself on the cause of waiting for Tony Stark to kick the fucking bucket." Tony clenched his jaw, bit back a very visible sob, and finally opened his eyes so he could look wearily up at Steve. "Is that what you want to do, Steve? Just sit here and watch me wither away until I can't control w-when I piss or breathe and finally suffocate myself in my sleep? Is that what you want?"

"I know you're scared, Tony," Steve murmured gently, and had to take a moment to stifle the burning sensation behind his eyes. Hell, of course he was scared — Steve was _terrified_ , and it wasn't even happening to him. "I'm scared, too," Steve whispered, and Tony's eyes widened, his lashes clumping together wetly and his lower lip trembling. "But— but I-I, I think you're worth it," Steve confessed, scrubbing uselessly at his scratchy eyes, trying to take one rough, heaving breath after another. "I-I-If all I get with you is another six months, t-then it'll be the _damn_ best six months of my _life_ ," he whispered, breath hitching miserably, "because I _care about you_ , you idiot."

Tony was shaking his head now, his skin grey, his face screwed up in misery. "Steve, I _forced myself_ on you," he said. "I basically _raped_ you. Don't come in here and—"

"Tony, you were the _only_ thing that made this past week _bearable_ ," Steve insisted, reaching out again to cup at Tony's face. "You think if I'd wanted to, I couldn't've thrown you out on your ass and broken half your bones to do so? Get real, Stark," Steve laughed miserably, sniffling wetly and pressing their foreheads together. Tony smelled sour, like vomit and sweat and chemo, but it was the best thing he'd smelled all day because it was _Tony_. "Tony, you're bruised to hell a-and you have _stitches_ in you. I think I got off easy here, buster."

"I took advantage of you," Tony whispered, his eyes bright and wet. "Steve, I— I wasn't just doing this out of the goodness of my heart. I-I-I had u-ulterior motives, I took advantage of your predicament because all you needed w-was a warm body, and I—"

"You are _not_ just a warm body for me to fuck into," Steve snapped, dragging Tony's gaze back up from the tiled floor. He tightened his fingers briefly, gave him the tiniest of shakes. "I wanted _you_. I— have wanted you for a very long time." Steve sighed, brushing Tony's bangs from his face. "You seem to be thinking I'm this paragon of all that's good and right in the world, and I am _not_ , Tony. I kill men, and women, and I've let the government do awful things to me because I thought it was for the greater good. And— and, what? You think because you're attracted to me, because you were kind to me, gentle to me, because you took care of me— that what? That everything you did for me wasn't kind or gentle or _amazing_?"

"It— it's more than that," Tony whispered, his eyes falling to the side again. He screwed his eyes shut, a grimace twisting his lips. "I-I, I love you, and I-I'd do anything for you—" Tony sniffled and wiped at his nose. "And I'm nowhere good enough for you."

"You… what?" Steve's breath caught. He felt off-kilter, out of time, like he'd just woken up again and found everything flipped on its axis, but this time it felt _good_ and _right_ , and he just wanted to take Tony in his arms and never let go. "You love me?" he asked, soft, reverent almost. Tony Stark loved _him_ , Steve Rogers, who— who swore too much, whose best friend wore dentures because his teeth all fell out, who talked better with his fists than his words most days. Steve Rogers, a ham-handed, bumbling oaf a man, and sweet, suave, wonderful _Tony Stark loved him_. "You love me?" he asked again, and Steve could feel his lips pulling back into a wide, beaming grin.

Tony sniffed again. "I know it's— it's stupid, and I don't expect you to feel the same way—" he started.

"Bullshit," Steve said. Tony started, and Steve pressed a soft, sweet kiss to his mouth, puke-breath and all. "I love you, you dipshit. I didn't just say it because I was drugged, or because you were _convenient_ , or because you let me wreck your body for the past week. I want to _be_ with you, Tony," he finished gruffly, pressing another kiss to the corner of Tony's mouth, "for as long as you'll have me."

Tony hesitated, then very slowly shuffled forward and laid his head on Steve's shoulder, wrapping his arms around Steve's middle, tangling them as close together as humanly possible. "No takebacks," Tony murmured, ever so slightly shaking in Steve's grasp. "Even when I get annoying and my hair falls out and I lock you out of my lab for not wiping the mud off your boots and tracking it all over my sterile work environment."

"I've seen your lab," Steve shot back, and Tony snorted, rolling his head to the side so he could peer up at Steve with one watery eye. "I can't believe I'm being the mature one here." Steve laughed again, pressing a quick kiss to Tony's cheek, and then another when he seemed to lean into it. "I once jumped off my apartment building to avoid talking to Jan."

Tony sputtered. "Are you kidding me?" he said, biting his lip against a giggle.

Steve snorted and shook his head. "Jumped right over the railing, about a dozen floors down," he replied, brushed his thumbs across the dainty skin on Tony's brow. "You feel like you're gonna be sick again?" Steve asked gently, and Tony shook his head.

"I think I'm done tasting my own bile for the moment," he rasped, pulling on a shaky grin.

"Good," Steve praised, pressing another kiss to Tony's face. Tony sighed, leaned into Steve again, and Steve beamed, brushed a thick curl out of Tony's face. "So what we're going to do is brush your teeth and wash your face and then we're going to lay in bed so I can kiss you proper, alright?"

"Mm, I'm not sure if I'm up for much at the moment," Tony admitted, letting himself be gently picked up and propped against the sink. Steve wet his toothbrush for him and squeezed a dab of paste on the brush.

"Then just lay with me," Steve said sincerely, and Tony met his eyes in the mirror, all wide-eyed wonder. Steve smiled, pressed another kiss to his brow. "I'll get you some soap."

"I use a special—" Tony started.

"Face wash, I know," Steve called back, dipping into Tony's enormous shower to grab the tube from the ledge.

When Tony's face was scrubbed and his breath all minty-fresh, Steve piled the two of them in Tony's overly large and comfortable bed, pulling the covers around them both. Tony immediately set to snuggling them together, tangling his cold feet in between the warmth of Steve's calves. Without the robe now, Steve could see more than ever the stark bruising, the mess of black and blue spanning his torso, hips, and thighs. 

Steve's throat felt tight. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, face screwing in misery. He gently brushed a hand down a particular nasty purple bruise that extended all the way down his backside. "I was too rough with you."

Tony shuddered. "Darling, I'm on chemo," he murmured, stroking one reverent finger down the side of Steve's face. "A strong breeze could bruise me right now — don't worry too much about it, alright?"

Steve blinked a few times, tried to keep back the wet heat piling up behind his eyelids. "You're sure?" he asked roughly. "I didn't— didn't hurt you too bad? Tony, I-I-I _tore_ you."

Tony hummed, pressing a sweet kiss to Steve's lips. "We fucked for eight days, handsome — the anal tissues are very fragile, and anyone would have torn after a session that intense."

Steve's eyes burned. "I feel like such a brute," he admitted, gathering Tony up in his arms. "I always felt like I was going to break Jan — like I'm going to break you, I—"

"Shhh, my turn now, darling," Tony whispered. "I'm stronger than that, and you know it. I put on a big metal suit and fight the same villains as you, _and_ I do it covered in foul-smelling inertial-dampening gel. Just because I'm a little multi-colored right now doesn't mean you have to be scared to touch me."

Steve huffed and kissed Tony again, soft and slow. Tony hummed happily, his toes curling, and snuggled even closer, his tongue darting out to wet at Steve's lower lip. Steve hummed, pulling back so he could give Tony one, two, three separate, slow, sensual kisses.

They had a lot of lost time to make up for, after all.

"I feel like this is too good to be true," Tony whispered eventually, lips barely brushing the fabric at Steve's shoulder. Steve hummed, let his fingers drift up and down the far-too-prominent knobs of Tony's spine. "I'm not hallucinating, am I? Did I knock my head on the floor in the bathroom and give myself a concussion? Am I dreaming right now?"

"Go to sleep," Steve grunted, cuffing the side of Tony's head. Tony continued to wiggle in his arms, and Steve sighed, shifting the two of them so they were spooning, so Steve could thread their fingers together. "I'll still be here in the morning."

Tony was quiet for a moment, and then he was squeezing Steve's hand, so tightly, his other hand coming up so he could pet at their interlocked fingers. "Promise?" he asked lowly.

"Count on it," Steve said, and held on tight.


End file.
